


Soul Mates (This time Around)

by OncefortheFun



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:31:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OncefortheFun/pseuds/OncefortheFun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Ten years after the class of 2012 graduates from McKinley High, the gang returns to Lima, Ohio, for a Glee Family reunion.  Although they have managed to stay close over the years, life hasn't quite turned out the way anyone expected it to. While Santana battles guilt from the past, the rest of the Glee clubbers find out just how deep their bonds really go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soul Mates

_Lima, Ohio, 2022_

Soul mates. There must have been something in the air of McKinley High, or maybe just coursing through the vents of the choir room during their time there, for them to have all been so lucky, to have found each other: Rachel and Finn. Quinn and Puck. Santana and Brittany. Blaine and Kurt. All soul mates. All destined to be together forever. All somehow finding great successes out in the bigger world when statistics and common sense were screaming loudly that they wouldn’t.

It’s nice, Santana Pierce-Lopez thought, as she kneeled down on the ground, being young and idealistic. The only one of them that had actually had a grip on the situation properly was Finn. He was the only one smart enough to know that he didn’t know what the future contained. The rest of them, well they had marched off to their destines, assured of their place in the world, knowing without a doubt of where they would land. Rachel Barbra Berry had grown up with two loving and adoring fathers who had treated her like a star, and instilled within her a drive to someday make it big on Broadway, but big in Ohio, and big in New York were two very different things. New York was a very big city, filled with millions of talented people, all walking tentatively through their own dreams, clawing to see them through. From being teased and bullied Rachel had learned how to be cutthroat, but had never quite grasped how to recognize other people’s talents.

  
Brittany S. Pierce, who believed in unicorns and fairies, was never equipped for the grime and desperation that clung to New York away from the tourist attractions and the financial district. She had lived in her own world for so long, one where the sun always shined, people were always happy, and she could be a perpetual child dancing through life without having to make any tough or real decisions. It was a paradigm that was shaped from being blonde, and pretty, and blue-eyed, and always having people like Santana who could shelter her from the world. It would have been all well and good as long as she’d never left Lima, or even the protected halls of MIT, but New York wasn’t a sheltered environment. And naiveté wasn’t praised, it was preyed upon. Everyone had to grow up at some point.

  
Blaine had never really cultivated a dream of his own, because he never had to. Never had to think about getting his hands dirty in life. He was the only son of successful and well off parents’ who gave him love, affection, and a credit card that didn’t have a limit on it. He learned quickly that his charming smile pretty much had secured him everything in life. Even he had acknowledged that things just came to him, sometimes. Like Kurt who had somehow miraculously just been dropped into his life. At the time, Kurt had thought that Blaine was a godsend. Blaine had had been the man that Kurt needed to look up to, had brought Kurt the courage that he needed to free himself, free the inner unicorn, as Brittany would say, to unleash the power that Kurt had never known he had had inside of him.

  
Blaine had been all that, but then he became content to fall back, to become the wind keeping Kurt afloat in the air, to fading back into the shadows. He had fallen in love, and from then on, went from being a leader, to following Kurt. He had followed him to McKinley High, followed him to NYADA and New York, followed after other peoples’ dreams without pausing to work, or consider, his own. Love does that to the best of us.

  
Santana’s eyes traced over the words etched on the piece of stone in front of her. We were going to conquer the world; all of us. Lucky in talent, lucky in love, top of the world with our soul mates standing at our side.

  
Kurt had grown from the boy who had once dated Brittany just to try to convince himself he was straight, but he had been just as naïve. Having Rachel as a best friend could make you believe that anything was possible, but neither of them had realized that the youth and energizing spirit that had gotten them easily into the door, made them just as replaceable by the next young, and energetic ingénue that came to the big city from a small town with similar dreams. Kurt’s internship at Vogue.com was given to the next young fashionable gay, and while his contacts within it didn’t just disappear, that door had closed and all the things he thought it, and NYADA would bring him, didn’t exactly pan out.

  
Puck had understood. Puck had been working since he was 14 years old and realized that dreaming wasn’t enough. Football had toughened him, made him understand that there was no forward progress without digging your feet into the ground. Realized that the only way he was going to make it out of Lima was by going through the military. His dreams hadn’t rested with a guitar and the sway of his hips. After Finn’s enlistment he had realized that the military held something for him that he had never previously thought he’d have before: a future. It had also given him the male bonding he’d missed when his dad walked out, and had showed him a path to becoming a good man, a better man. It also took some things from him that he could never take back, but that’s how life worked.

  
Quinn? Well the same way that warm and loving parents who never put any pressure on their child could turn out a Brittany, no matter how much her mother changed and tried to be that for Quinn, Russell was too firmly entrenched in who she was. Her drama major at Yale had quickly changed to a degree in business, and then a Master’s in it. Her job kept her bouncing all over the country, a fact that she used to explain away the silences that she fell into concerning her friends. The world still moved for her, but not the same way that it once had, and on cold days she didn’t sashay through the crowds, parting them the way she once had in high school, instead she leaned on a cane, and quietly limped through them, her head up fiercely as she made her way home to tiredly knead the knots out of her aching back.

  
And Santana. Santana was here. Brought down to her knees. Facing a blank piece of stone that held no answers, just endless questions and what if’s. She was here a week early, because she knew that once the rest of the Glee kids started to arrive, one by one they would all make their way here, to this spot, and she didn’t want to be bothered. She wanted to be alone for this. Her eyes refocused on the name that was etched in the stone in front of her: Finn Hudson. Even nearly 10 years after the fact, the same feelings arose when she stood in front of Finn’s grave: Loss and guilt. Overwhelming guilt. Guilt that no one else would have understood because no one else had ever really known the true nature of their relationship.

  
Guilt because whenever she was back here, she could still hear his voice in her ear. _You know what that makes you? A coward._ How dare he throw those words in her face? People thought that his words had been merely harsh, they didn’t know just how cruel they had been. It hadn’t been a misguided attack, Finn had pulled out the knife, stabbed her, and then twisted the blade. Each word had been carefully metered out to push Santana to her limits, to push her away from him. _Coward._ It had been his way to show her that he could fight just as dirty, that when backed into a corner he, like she, came out with his claws out. _Coward._

  
“You were such a fucking asshole, Finn!” Santana hissed. “You were self-righteous, pitying, placating. You thought that you had this master plan, that you knew better than all the rest of us, and that if we didn’t fall into line, we were at fault.” Santana hated to think that even from the grave, Finn was silently playing with all of them, subtly controlling all of their lives. Tears fell from her face and slowly sank into the ground. “I miss you, so much.”

  
They had both been cowards. But Finn, he no longer had to live with his cowardice, while Santana had to carry it, and her secret, around with her.  
She rearranged the flowers that she had brought for him. “Can you believe I have a daughter, Finn?” she could only imagine the look that he would have given her. She continued to update him on the status of their friends. The soul mates. Eight people, and not a one of them had seen their relationships as anything other than what they really were: first loves too scared, really, to say good-bye. Not a one of them were still together. Finn and Rachel had, of course, been the first to realize the truth, but they would forever be in the category of what-if because Finn was dead. Had he still lived, it was easy to see where that would have ended. Rachel accidentally pregnant, getting married, and settling for a relationship that would have lasted three years, tops, because Finn only wanted her when he couldn’t have her, and Rachel never stopped needing a leading man, and would eventually realize that Finn was no longer that. But since it had ended tragically, they all could pretend that they would have, at least, had their happily ever after.

  
The only ones in their group that were still together 10 years down the road were Tina and Mike, and oddly (or was it ironically?) Mercedes and Sam. Odd (or ironic) because Mercedes wasn’t the one that Sam had bought a promise ring for, or had laid out Cheerios on the ground to lure her into a classroom to confess how long he’d been in love with her. Odd because people never remembered that they had once been together. Odd because Mercedes wasn’t the one that he had declared his undying love for. Ironic because she wasn’t blonde, or slender, and hadn’t been using him. Their relationship had, at more than one time, been in the closet, but now they were both out, and somehow making it work. Every day, they were making it work. Even though everyone else had given it up.

  
“I know, it surprised us all too,” Santana said. There was more that she wanted to say, more to tell him; it had been a long time, after all, but she felt eyes on her, and she stopped, mid-sentence. Her eyes scanned, finding the intruder standing a few feet away, pinning Santana to the ground with a curious look. She was athletically built, maybe an inch taller than Santana. The pale yellow sundress she wore seemed to contrast with her surroundings, though, Santana noticed, it matched the flowers that she held in her hand. The hem of her dress, as well as her shoulder length brown-red hair, whipped quietly in the small wind that blew around them.

  
Her beauty was quiet, and mature, and it took Santana’s breath away, but it was those eyes, those hazel orbs that peeked out behind a very fashionable pair of slightly tinted glasses that really did the damage. “Hello Santana,” she said, her voice carrying over the distance to rest on Santana’s ears, breaking the illusion that Santana was alone in the past.

  
Santana gulped, because this was probably the last person that she wanted to see her talking to the grave of the man everyone thought that she’d hated. She was supposed to have had time. No one was supposed to be here for another few days, at least. She swallowed. “Quinn.”


	2. Where We Last Left Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana and Quinn catch up.

_Lima, Ohio, 2022_  

               Santana’s first thought: run. Her second: pull Quinn into her arms and hug her. In a completely platonic way, of course. Her body jerked to do one or the other; she wasn’t sure which. So she just kind of wavered there, as if she didn’t have much more substance than the flowers Quinn held in her hand, easily blowing in the wind. Santana had trouble thinking about Quinn without seeing her the way that she had liked her best: naked, a mess of limbs and sweat and energy, writhing on the bed together. Or Quinn propped up on the bed, breathing hard, with her sex-head and that water bottle. God, that water bottle. Santana had never been so jealous of an inanimate object before.

                Quinn had looked at her, hedging her bets, ready to proclaim that it was nothing (God why did the people in her life keep telling her that sex with her was nothing and wonder why she was such a bitch), to push it under the rug, cast it aside as a one-time thing. And it had been: it had been a one-time thing, all night long. In the morning, after Santana had pulled herself from beneath Quinn’s arm, and had showered, Quinn had lay there, naked except for the sheet that covered her, and watched as Santana pulled her things together. Santana, aware of her audience, did a backwards strip tease, saucily snaking her way back into clothes while Quinn’s eyes watched, hooded, but mysterious.

                They didn’t say a word to each other the whole time, but standing in the doorway, Santana paused a second, her dress slung over her arm, her eyes challenging. Santana, who was bunking at home, didn’t have any spare clothes, while Quinn, who didn’t want to get caught up with any Judy-drama, did. So Santana was wearing a pair of Quinn’s pants, a Yale t-shirt, and that horrendous cardigan that she had worn to the wedding. They were both aware that some of the other glee clubbers might have gotten a room, too, and that she could pass them on the way out. She was daring Quinn to stop her from alerting anyone, in even this small way, of what could have possibly gone on in the hotel room the night before.

                In response, Quinn slid from the bed, went up to Santana, leaned in as if she was going to kiss her, and instead took Santana’s red silk panties from her hand, and carefully walked back to her suitcase and stuffed them into the side pocket. She gave a glance over her shoulder before she disappeared into the bathroom. When she got out of the shower, Santana was gone, but room service was waiting for her with a fruit tray with two thin, crispy, slices of bacon on the side.

                Santana had made it out of the hotel without running into anyone that she knew, leaving her, years later, to wonder, if it would have made all the difference if someone had.

                 Something had to be said, and it was too late to run, so Santana settled on the easy. “I didn’t know Lucy was invited to the reunion? Isn’t that next week?”

                Quinn smiled rather than scowl, taking a few steps closer, not close enough to touch, just close enough to make Santana nervous. “I haven’t been a blonde in years, and the pollen makes it impossible to wear contacts. I see you finally realized that shirts aren’t dresses and finally have on something that wouldn’t make the nuns cry.”

                Santana looked down at her clothing for an instant, forgetting what she was wearing: a cute and feminine (but obviously flannel), flannel short-sleeved shirt that showed a black tank beneath, and her thin, but still cut arms, and mom jeans. She was actually wearing mom jeans!

                “Fuck you, Fabray.”

                “I missed you too, Santana.” Quinn’s words were like a balm, and she was remembering a scene from just a few days ago.

                _“Mami_ , _”_

_“Yes, mija?”_

_“Am I done being punished yet?”_

_Santana smiled a smile her daughter couldn’t see. “I don’t know, mija, why were you being punished?”_

_“Because I made fun of Reggie’s clothes and said a bad word.”_

_Santana kneeled down in front of her daughter. “Mija, it is unkind to tease people. If you were wearing different clothes, you wouldn’t want the kids to tease you would you?”_

_Aurora looked up at Santana with wide, sad eyes. “No.”_

_“Then you shouldn’t tease Reggie, or any other kid, just because their different, or because it makes you seem cool. It may be hard, but you should always try to be kind.” Santana felt odd saying the words. If she had known that having kids was mostly about getting your own shit thrown back in your face, she might have thought a lot harder about having one, but now that she did, she’d be damned if she brought up an emotional cripple like herself, who had to let the people in her life go before she understood what they meant to her. “That way everyone gets to know the beautiful, smart, and loving girl that I know.”_

_“Okay, mami.”_

_“Promise you’ll try to do better.”_

_Aurora nodded. “I promise.”_

_“Then you’re done being punished.”_

                 “I’m sorry,” Santana said, softly, back in the moment. “I didn’t mean that Quinn. I’m surprised to see you, here of all places.”

                The apology was so uncharacteristic of the Santana Quinn knew that Quinn wasn’t able to hide the surprise on her face. It shocked her into the truth. “I didn’t think anyone would be here this soon,” she admitted.

                Santana gave a little half-laugh. “I didn’t either.”

                “I can go, if you would like some…privacy.” Santana could hear the curiosity in Quinn’s voice, the desperate need to know what had brought Santana out here. After all, as far as Quinn knew, Santana and Finn hadn’t been close, and after he had outed her in the middle of the hallway her senior year, they hadn’t talked amicably.

                Santana looked back at the grave stone. She stared at it so long that Quinn started to back up. “No,” she said finally, surprising Quinn, Santana’s liquid brown eyes back on Quinn’s. “Nah, I’m done being a sad sack, Fabray. Let’s get lunch. I needs to get my Breadstix on!”

* * *

 

                 They sat across from each other, not knowing what to say, and pretending that the silence wasn’t awkward. Santana chewed on a breadstick. “So what’s new and exciting in your life?” she questioned, casually. _Why are you here,_ now _?_

                Quinn tilted her head to the side, smirking. “I got back from London a week early, and mom’s been begging me to visit, so I thought I’d come up a little early.”

                “I didn’t ask that,” Santana stated.

                “You keep forgetting how well I know you,” Quinn replied.

                Santana stopped herself from thinking a response, so Quinn couldn’t read that too. “How is Judy?”

                “Dry six years now!”

                “That’s incredible,” Santana said, and she meant it. She wracked her brain. “How’s-,”

                “Steve,” Quinn supplied. “He’s good.” She nodded as if to herself. “He’s a good man.”

                Santana didn’t ask about Russell and Quinn didn’t offer anything. “Frannie likes him, too,” she said as an aside. Frannie, the perfect Fabray. Married to a Boston blue blood not unlike that guy Quinn had brought home once, Biff.

                 “That’s good,” Santana said, only to be supportive. “Still single?”

                “Still single. The job doesn’t really make it easy to support a relationship.” It was her excuse, and she was going to hold on to it. “You?”

                Santana grimaced. “No one serious,” she replied. “Dating’s different, now that I have Aurora. I don’t want just anyone coming around her.”

                “How is A.C.?” Quinn questioned, eager to have something less painful to talk about. “I got her a stuffed double decker when I was in London.”

                Again Santana nodded. “She’s good. She’ll be happy to see her Aunt Quinnie again. You can give it to her when Britt brings her down this weekend.”

                Quinn silently watched Santana play with the napkin at the statement. “How are things with you two?” Quinn questioned.

                “We’re good,” Santana said with a firm nod. “We’re friends, and I think we’ve become pros at this whole divorce thing.”

                Quinn didn’t really know what to say because it was so hard to imagine a Santana without Brittany. No one knew the real reason that it had happened, and Quinn was trying very hard not to assume that Santana had been at fault. After all, she’d been the reason for their initial break up. “Hey Q?” Santana questioned. Her eyes leveled until they met Quinn’s.

                “Yea?”

                 “When did it happen?”

                “When did what happen?”

                “When did you realize that high school was really over?”


	3. Vacation Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brittany and Santana return from their vacation with a surprise for everyone.

_Bushwick, New York, 2013_

                “What time is it?” Rachel screamed from the bowels of the loft. Kurt was standing in front of the full length mirror, adjusting his carafe.

                “We’ve still got about two hours, Rach,” Kurt called back.

                 “We should leave soon,” Rachel said. “I don’t want to be late. I haven’t seen them in months!”

                “No one’s seen them in months,” Kurt informed her. He took a step into Rachel’s space. “Glad to see the feud’s over.”

                Rachel rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s over,” she said. “It was over back in Lima. I miss my friend! I wonder what they brought us back! Do you think that Santana remembered to bring me back some honey from Lesbos?”

                Kurt rolled his eyes and went back into the main room of the loft. There was a small bang on the door, then the sound of it being moved out of place, and then there in front of them were Santana and Brittany, both tanned from their vacation, and smiling widely, glowing even. “Santana! Britt!” Kurt exclaimed loudly. “We’re supposed to picking you up!”

                Santana gave a wide-mouth smile, shuffling her bags. “Our flight got in early, so we thought we’d surprise you!” Her eyes flickered over Kurt’s face. “Check out that scar!”

                “You should see the other guy,” Kurt said, flippantly. He hugged both of them, stood back, and something caught his eye, causing him to look down. “Oh my _God_ ,” Kurt exclaimed, as soon as he stepped back from them. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my… _what_ is that on your fingers? Rachel!” His voice echoed through the loft. “RACHEL!”

                Rachel came out from her ‘room’. “What’s the matter?” Her eyes fell on the newest arrivals and she squealed, rushing into their arms. “Brittany, Santana! You’re back! We were just coming to meet you! How was your trip?”

                Brittany and Santana were smiling as Kurt looked at them in horror. “Do you know what they _did_?”

                Rachel looked clueless. She had talked to Santana over the phone yesterday. What had they done? Santana held her right hand up. “Okay, Lady Hummel, come on. We’ve been gone for three months. What did you think this extended vacation meant?”

                “What’s going on?” Rachel questioned, a confused look taking over her features.

                Kurt jabbed furiously at their hands. “They got married!” Kurt screeched.

                Rachel waved his words away. “Of course they didn’t get married, Kurt. They’ve been traveling, and we all know that you and Blaine are the next Glee clubbers to get married, and I’m sure that Santana and Brittany realize that-,”

                Santana and Brittany held up their left hands, showing off the matching bands. “Oh my god!”

                “I know, right?” Kurt demanded. “Right?” He pointed a trembling finger to the couch. “Sit, and tell all!”

                “As much fun as it would be, you may as well sound the Glee alarm and gather the troops together so we can tell everyone at once. The flight was kind of draining, and we’d kind of not like to have to go through it over and over again.”

                Kurt and Rachel did as they were asked. Kurt sent out an Emergency Pot Luck alert to Mercedes, Sam, Artie, and Blaine, and Rachel set up a group SKYPE session for 7:00 that night, and with the eight of them sitting around the table, and with Mike, Tina, Sugar, Puck, and Quinn stationed around the table on different laptops, at different intervals, but all facing Santana and Brittany, they all waited, wondering what they were about to hear. Santana smiled that smile at Brittany that was only ever directed towards Brittany, the one that said I’d gladly lay down in front of a truck for you. “Well, as you know, at graduation me and Britt-Britt got back together.”

                For those who didn’t know there was a moment of surprise. Quinn, borrowing from Santana’s book said, “Wanky.” Santana found the screen that Quinn was on and smiled her way. Kurt and Rachel, who were the only ones who knew the rest, were just waiting for it to hit the fan.

                Brittany took over talking. “Yeah, and I realized that the only person who ever truly made me feel alive was Santana, and I knew that I would never, ever feel that way with anyone else. Not now, not ever,” Mercedes ‘awwed’ “and so I decided to-,”

                “Brittany, you proposed?” Tina’s voice squealed, cutting Brittany off.

                Sam’s face scrunched up. “Huh, I kind of figured that you’d be the one to do that, Santana.”

                “Yea,” Mercedes agreed. “Didn’t you buy a ring in New-”

                Santana sent a death glare at Mercedes. “Aretha? Shut it!” Santana hissed. Brittany looked at Santana, Santana only shook her head.

                “I did propose,” Brittany said, halting the conversations, and bringing things back into focus. She grabbed Santana’s hand, similarly to the way that Santana had grabbed hers earlier. “And actually, we…we’re now Brittany and Santana Pierce-Lopez.”

                No one, between the crowd in Bushwick, and those who were tuned in via the internet, knew what to say. Although Rachel and Kurt had already known, hearing the words again was like hearing the news for the first time.

                “Err…Britt,” Mercedes began, slowly. After all this wasn’t Brittany’s first wedding announcement, nor did Brittany always seem to have a firm grasp on reality. “You do know that you’re not married just because you put a ring on a finger and say your name with Santana’s, right?”

                Brittany and Santana both rolled their eyes. “Yeah, duh. We’re married, married. We got married in Argentina before we went to Hawaii. Show them, San.”

                Smiling at Brittany, Santana quoted, “Novia Brittany tomas tu a novia Santana como tu esposa,   
prometes amarla, respetarla, protejerla abandonando a todo y dedicandote solo a ella?

                “Si!” Brittany cheered. “Si! Si! Siempre, si! Santana?” Santana beamed at her wife as she slowly and carefully recited: “Como to esposa, prometes amarlo, respetarlo, protejerlo abandonando a todo y dedicandote solo a ella?”

                Santana placed a chaste, yet extremely intimate kiss on Brittany’s lips. “Si. Siempre.”

                For the moment the two of them forgot that there were a dozen people bearing witness to this moment, and Brittany’s arms wrapped around Santana’s neck, and they were kissing each other.

                A throat was cleared, and then everyone started talking all at once. After maybe a minute of this, Rachel’s voice rang out above them all. “Santana, Brittany, while I am extremely saddened that you did not wish to include your extended family in your nuptials, and while I quite expected to be the one to officiate your ceremony and have been studying how to do so online, I believe that I speak for everyone when I say, Congratulations?”

                There were a handful of ‘congratulations’ before talking continued, everyone offering their opinions on the matter, but none of them mattering because it was already done.

                “Did you guys get married outside or in a church?” Tina.

                “What were you wearing?” Kurt.

                “Tell us about the honeymoon!” Puck.

                One voice was quiet, and had been quiet from the moment that it’d been announced that Brittany had proposed. As if sensing the void, Santana’s eyes darted to the one laptop that was broadcasting Quinn’s face. Through the miles, and the distance, and the pixels, their eyes momentarily met.

                _I’m addicted to you, but you know that you’re toxic?_

                Santana’s eyes seemed to say, “What did you expect?” And Quinn? Well she blurted the only thing that came to mind. “I at least thought you would have told _me_.”

                In the noise Quinn’s statement went almost unheard, except for Rachel whose ears quirked at the words, and although Quinn couldn’t see exactly where she was looking, Santana looked over at Rachel before looking back at the screen. Quinn got the message anyway. She forced a smile.

                Brittany and Santana continued to field questions, but eventually those that were on SKYPE closed out, Rachel brought out the champagne, and they toasted the newly married couple. They drank until two in the morning, and then people found floor space to sleep on. Brittany and Santana stretched out on an air mattress, and Santana was happy, and drunk, and was feeling really sappy. Even though Mercedes and Sam were in the room, she started to sing softly to Brittany, “Oh, we don’t got a barrel of, money.”

                Brittany quickly picked up the song. “Maybe we’re ragged and runny.”

                “But we’ll travel along.”

                “Singing our song.”

                “Side by side,” they finished together. “Para siempre?” Brittany questioned.

                Santana lifted her head off of Brittany’s chest, for a moment, looking up at her. “Siempre,” Santana promised.


	4. The First Tear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt starts to find himself.

Bushwick, New York, 2013

                If they could go back and pinpoint a moment where things all started to unravel, it was fair to say that that moment was when they moved to New York. Or maybe it wasn’t that things were unraveling, maybe it was just that things were changing, and that none of them had really understood that part of growing up is that awareness that each year you become someone different than you were the year before. For Brittany and Santana, the biggest mistake was Brittany moving to New York. For Kurt and Blaine?

                It wasn’t Eliot. The reason that Kurt felt his feelings for Blaine start to change. It wasn’t Starchild, though in a way it had something to do with him. Something because Eliot was like his gay Yoda, his mentor, and Kurt realized that that’s what Blaine had always been to him. Blaine was the one who had given Kurt the courage to step out of the closet, and for a time, Kurt had been borrowing Blaine’s courage, had been using him to learn how to develop into a gay man, but while Kurt was changing, becoming stronger, becoming more confident, merely becoming, Blaine wasn’t. Blaine was just standing still.

                What surprised Kurt, once he found his courage, once he realized exactly who he was, was that he hadn’t needed Blaine. Here he was in New York, the toughest city in the country, and when confronted with danger he didn’t run. He faced it head on, and he helped out someone who couldn’t fight for themselves. Sure it had hurt like a bitch when that brick came crashing down against his head, and yea, it was frightening, but he had done it. And it had changed him. He had gotten another day older.

                In the hospital, between moments of pain, Kurt’s thoughts were on his friends, or Blaine, or the thought of missing the opening of _Funny Girl._ They were of Dave. Of David being in the hospital. Of David being in the literal closet, with his belt strap around his neck, seeking an out the only way he knew how. Wasn’t attempting suicide nearly the same as getting bashed? At your hands, or someone else’s, either way the hurt was still there, the pain was still there, the scars. Kurt had said that they were friends, yet after Dave’s attempted suicide, he had allowed himself to get caught up in his own life, his own minor problems. He had allowed Dave to disappear.

                “Honey?” Blaine had questioned from his hospital bed, after Kurt had zoned out again, “You seem distracted, what’s wrong?” Kurt merely shook off Blaine’s concern. Had his boyfriend always seemed so…so…Kurt wasn’t sure of the word.

                When Burt came to visit him, after his anger dissipated, Kurt posed the question, “Have you heard anything else about David?”

                Burt was confused, not recognizing the name. “Who?”

                “Karofsky?”

                If Burt was surprised by the utterance of the name, he didn’t show it. After what Kurt had done, nothing his son did would ever surprise him again. “No. I’m sorry, Kurt.”

                For the time being, the sudden need to know about him passed, but weeks later it came up again. He didn’t think that it would be hard to find him, I mean how many Karofsky’s were out there anyway? But it turned out that Dave never reactivated his Facebook account, and no one seemed to know what had happened to the man.

                It wasn’t until a Monday night Pot Luck after Santana and Brittany had returned home that Kurt was given a clue. “So, Lady, I’ve been patient, but when are you going to tell me how you got that scar? Did Blaine whip you too hard on the face when you guys were getting kinky?”

                Blaine reached across the table and squeezed Kurt’s hand tightly. “Eww…God, Santana, no. My little hero got this scar rescuing a poor defenseless gay kid who was getting beat up by some ignorant homophobic hicks.”

                It took Santana a moment to navigate through Blaine’s rambling coo, but when she did, her eyes narrowed in anger. “He what?”

                Kurt took over the story. “There’s been some gay bashing going on in the neighborhood, and I saw some guy getting beat up. I couldn’t just watch, you know. I had to do something, but don’t worry, it wasn’t bad.”

                “You were in the hospital!” Blaine screeched. “We were all really worried.”

                Sam slapped Kurt’s back. “Hey, nothing’s happening to Kurt. He’s too strong.”

                The anger was still there in Santana’s eye. “That was…,” she glowered at Kurt. “ _Don’t_ do that again, Kurt. I-,”

                Kurt met her eyes. “I know, Santana,” Kurt assured her.

                “And just so you know, if you ever see those ass hats again, let me know cause I’ll show them how we do it,”

                “All Lima Heights style,” at least three people chorused along with her.

                Santana couldn’t help but smile. “And that’s how S sees it,” Brittany chimed in, and there was laughter, and the mood lightened, and for the moment it was forgotten that Kurt had senselessly rushed into a dark alley. After, though, somehow it was Kurt and Santana by themselves, cleaning up the mess for the evening.

                “So how are you really handling it?” Santana questioned.

                “It was terrifying,” Kurt admitted. “There was this moment, this moment that I thought I’d never see any of the people that I loved ever again.”

                “But it’s all okay, now?” Kurt nodded. Santana touched Kurt’s scar. “It _is_ kind of bad ass.”

                Kurt chuckled. “Thanks. It changes you, you know,” he said thoughtfully. “Having that moment where everything you know might end. It kind of made me think of Dave? He had that moment once, too.”

                “Dave?” Santana questioned, curiously.

                “You remember, Karofsky?”

                Santana nodded. “I know who you were talking about, Hummel, I was just surprised to hear you call him Dave.”

                “It’s just, he just kind of disappeared,” Kurt said. “I mean the guy attempts to kill himself. He needed someone, needed me, and I-,”

                “You lived your life, Kurt. That’s what you’re supposed to do.” Santana hesitated, because she knew how much of a hands-off topic this was, but she went on. “Finn died, and it eats at us, but we still live our lives. If people stopped living because the ones that they loved die, humanity would cease to exist. Yes, Dave needed people, but he had them. He didn’t just _disappear_. I promise you, he’s not alone.”

                “How do you know that?”

                “We talk,” Santana said, surprising Kurt. They talked more, now, then they did in high school. In high school, they didn’t have to get all complicated with feelings. When Dave had needed her, she would go over and be the outside spoon, and when she needed Dave, he would be. After she graduated, though, you couldn’t give hugs through the phone, you couldn’t give knowing looks, and just be with each other the same way you could in person. So they talked. Because Santana _didn’t_ like feelings to get involved, it made her a decent listener, and she never hesitated to tell someone what they needed to hear, even if they didn’t want to hear it.

                It had been this crippling honesty that had led to her being outted by Finn in the first place. _It’s funny_ , Santana thought, whenever she thought of that moment, of Finn’s words, because no one listening had thought to actually question the truth of them. _“You’re afraid to admit that you’re in love with Brittany, and she might not love you back_.” It was such an absurd statement; the two of them had been dating (secretly) at the time, and so clearly in love. Even for the people who were too naïve to know that Santana and Brittany were more than ‘just friends’ knew that they loved each other. Yet, no one had ever questioned his words.

                “He was my beard,” Santana explained. “We had to know some things about each other if we were going to be even lukewarmly convincing, and,” she shrugged. “We became friends.”

                “Do you guys still talk?”

                Santana nodded. “Yea. He’s at Ohio State right now, on an athletic scholarship.” Santana sounded proud about this. Kurt wondered at it, because the fact that he was playing football was almost a sure fire way to force him back into the closet, until he actually interpreted Santana’s look. Because of the suicide attempt, Dave’s orientation, like Santana’s, had become public knowledge. “He’s not back in the closet is he?” Kurt realized.

                “No. His coaches know, and while he probably won’t be the first openly gay man in the NFL, he realizes exactly what he’s doing. He’s in a good place. There’s no going back.”

                Kurt was surprised to find that he shared Santana’s pride. He wondered if this was how Burt felt when he saw Kurt laying in that hospital bed. Scared, but so very proud. He threw his head up with a certain certainty. “Can I have his number?”

                Santana hesitated for a few moments. “I’ll ask him if it’s okay.”

                Kurt nodded. “Santana?”

                “Yes, Hummel?”

                “You’re a good friend.”

                Santana felt her spine stiffen. “Just don’t go around repeating that to everyone else and I won’t add another scar to that pretty face to keep company with the other one.” She hesitated. “Thank you, Kurt.”

                Santana passed along Dave’s number, and Kurt wasn’t sure what he would say to him. Most of Kurt and David existence had been violent. He had been slushied, knocked down, slammed into lockers; his first kiss had been forced from his lips, he’d been threatened and made to fear for his life, and fear for more than that. Feared that the next time it wouldn’t be a kiss that Dave forced from him. But Kurt had understood how crippling it could be, being in the closet. Kurt had always known that his dad had loved him, had supported him. When Kurt came out, Burt had been by his side. He had struggled in his duties as a heterosexual man with a gay son, but he had always remained a supporting and loving father. He could understand how not having that kind of structure in place could tear you down, I mean look at Santana, and her parents had been _okay_ with her being a lesbian.

                Fear was a powerful motivator, but once Dave had started to conquer that fear, he had been a different man. Just like Santana. Dave felt like his protégé, and Kurt wanted to know what kind of man Dave was becoming. So he texted him, just to see that Dave was okay. That was it.

                Maybe it wasn’t New York. Maybe it was just trying to go back after they had been doing so well pushing forward. Whatever it was, somewhere along the way there was a tear in their carefully constructed tapestry and things slowly started to unravel. 


	5. Going Backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel flips over Santana being her understudy, and a secret gets spilled.

_Bushwick, New York/Dayton, Ohio, 2013_

                Kurt read over an instant message that Blaine had just sent him. “Sue might actually disband Glee club,” Kurt said, idly. “If they don’t win nationals, Glee club is over.”

                “They won’t,” Santana said regretfully. “Puck said that Jake said that ever since Finn died, Mr. Schue has completely lost focus. He hasn’t come up with a set list, they don’t rehearse real competitive pieces, they don’t even have enough members to compete right now.”

                “Glee club can’t end,” Kurt protested.

                “Hummel. We’re not still in high school anymore. I know it would suck if it did, but it’s kind of not our problem.”

                Kurt put a finger to his lip. “Funny. Once Brittany disappeared, Glee club suddenly became not your problem, and you no longer want to go there every weekend.”

                “Shut it, Porcelain.”

                “You know: your insults don’t have the same kind of impact ever since I’ve seen you sing ‘War’ on Karaoke night.”

                Santana looked affronted. “They’re not insults. I forgot your name sophomore year and can’t be bothered to ask you for it again.”

                Kurt shook his head. “Oh, Satan.” A sobering thought occurred to him. “If we go back, you know it’ll be the first time that Rach’s been back since,” he didn’t have to finish the statement, so he didn’t. “She’s going to be a mess.”

                The door to the loft took that moment to open. “An understudy,” Rachel was ranting. “They actually want me to sit through auditions for an understudy. As if I don’t have the diner, and NYADA, and the band, and for what, I don’t need an understudy!”

                “Maybe your director thinks like we do and that you’re possibly over extending yourself, Berry.”

                “Yeah, Rach, doesn’t the union say that you have to have an understudy?”

                “It doesn’t matter!” Rachel tried to make them see. “I’m never going to get sick.”

                “Well, then, you have nothing to worry about, right?”

                “You guys don’t understand how understudy’s _work_. They’re the ones who aren’t talented enough to _land_ the role, so they’ll do anything to _steal_ it.”

                “Kay, Rach? You’ll be doing eight shows a week for the next year and a half. Your voice _will_ get tired, you will want to take a break, every body has to rest at some point. Turn your Diva down just a _little,_ you’re blinding the rest of us with it.”

                Rachel appealed to Santana, but Santana cut her off. “I’m with Hummel on this one,” Santana said. “Not everyone is you, Berry. I know you’d be slipping someone a special cocktail if you were their understudy, but everyone’s not like that.”

                “Well they should be,” Rachel said. “And if they’re not, that makes me worry even more.” That said, she executed a classic Diva storm out, only hampered by the lack of doors in the loft. “We really should put up a door for her. The curtains just don’t give it the same flare,” Santana noted. Kurt quietly snickered.

                On the day of the auditions, Santana found herself at the theatre. The amount of open, un-agented auditions that there were to be found in New York were so miniscule that you could almost count them on both hands, and they were usually the kind of roles that you didn’t want, so yeah, she showed up. She honestly hadn’t thought it’d be a big deal. What she was thinking was that Rachel was her friend. The two of them had enjoyed doing Glee club together, enjoyed singing and dancing together. They did Karaoke, and Callbacks, and were in a band together.

                What she thought was that Rachel would enjoy having a familiar face to be there with her, to help get her through rehearsals. Sure, Santana hated seeing Berry get the spotlight when she was still running around New York with seemingly no direction, like a chicken with its head cut off, but she hadn’t expected Rachel to respond _quite_ the way she had. Even the chosen song and choreography was done as a nod to Rachel. Hadn’t she herself said that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery?

                She hadn’t counted on Rachel _freaking the fuck_ out. Santana would have been open to having a calm, mature conversation about it, but that never happened. And to be absolutely honest, hearing Rachel’s old insecurities, her _fears_ that old Santana was going to come out and attack her after new Santana and new Rachel had been spending all of this time building a friendship together, well it _hurt_. And when Santana got hurt, her claws came out. Bitchy Santana was a far easier sell than hurt Santana, and even now, even after they had become friends, Rachel still refused to acknowledge that Santana was really talented. That she had other talents besides _swinging from a pole_. When Rachel had torn their picture on her way out, she felt like something inside of her was tearing as well.

                “I’m begging you Santana,” Kurt had come home pleading to her for the thousandth time. He paused, letting out a scream and covering his eyes. “Whoa, shirt, please, and pants! I can’t talk to you until you put on some pants!”

                “Down, boy wonder. It’s called an ass, I thought you liked them.”

                Kurt shivered as Santana slid into a shirt and shorts. Once she was dressed, Kurt continued. “End this, pretty please. You guys are better than this!”

                “I’m not dropping the role, Kurt.”

                “You don’t even care about Broadway!”

                “I care about making a way for myself. This will open doors for me. This will get my name out there. This will put some actual money in my pocket.”

                “At the cost of a friend,” Kurt warned.

                “I’m starting to realize that Berry and I will never really be friends. I can admit, I did some really horrible things back in high school, but none of us are still in high school anymore, Kurt.”

                Kurt who, by now, had a really strong feel for the way Santana did things wondered, “Why are you _really_ doing this?”

                “As much as Rachel thinks that this is the role she was _born_ to play, Kurt, there’s a thousand other girls who feel that _exact same way_. She doesn’t own that song, or that play, or that stage, or Broadway, and she just doesn’t get that. You know what I thought? I thought it’d be fun. I thought she’d appreciate having someone under her who would have her back, instead of looking for ways to backstab it.”

                “She thinks you’re one of those waiting to stab her in the back!”

                Santana turned on him. “What do you think, Kurt?”

                “I think high school Santana would.”

                “And now?”

                Kurt blanched angrily. “I stood up for _you_ didn’t I? Rachel was out of line.”

                “Now did you tell her-,”

                Kurt didn’t let her finish. “But you’re not helping the situation any!”

                “Kurt, think about if she were doing this with someone else. Someone not me. With someone who wanted the role just as much as she did. Do you think Berry’s capable of fighting that fight? If she wants to be a star, if she wants to see her name plastered on magazines, she can’t be about this petty shit!”

                Kurt just screamed in frustration. This, this was why he was gay.

                A week later, when Kurt approached the topic again, Santana just shook her head. She had a headache, and she was tired of this, and Glee Club really was getting cancelled, which meant that all of them were going to end up back in Lima, _again_ , which also meant that she would be seeing Brittany for the first time since she left for M.I.T. “Look, as miserable as this all is, I’m not going to drop the role right now.”

                “ _Why_? Santana you are talented, and beautiful, and smart, and with enough alcohol you can even be _charming,_ something else will come along, and soon, I’m begging you to be the better person.”

                “Oh, I’m over that,” Santana dismissed, flippantly.

                “Then what?”

                Santana showed a little bit of her hand. “I’ll drop _Funny Girl_ when we get back from Lima,” she offered up. Kurt was confused.

                “What?”

                “Rachel can have _Funny Girl_ ,” Santana spelled out. “I missed Glee, okay? I missed _that_ Rachel, but that screaming harpy shrew that I’ve had to deal with, it’s so not worth it. So I’m done playing this game with Rachel, but not until we get back from Lima.”

                Even though Rachel still wasn’t talking to Santana when they returned home, the three of them still flew together back to Ohio, and Santana had manipulated things so that she and Rachel were sitting next to each other. “Want to practice lines together?” Santana questioned with a sneer.

                 “Go away, Santana,” Rachel said, softly. Wounded Rachel was out. Santana didn’t go away, and she didn’t stop talking, not for the whole flight. She talked about Rachel’s interpretation of the lines, she talked about how Rachel’s dancing wasn’t as clean as hers, she talked about how Rachel seemed screechy during _My Man_ on Wednesday’s rehearsal. And Rachel stewed, and Rachel got angry, and Rachel even swore at Santana. By the time the plane landed in Dayton, Rachel was livid, but what she wasn’t was sad and weepy. She hadn’t spent the whole flight staring out the window and wondering what was waiting her when she got to Lima. She didn’t have time to get lost in her own thoughts because Santana didn’t stop feeding her her own.

                “Do you think Quinn will be here?” Santana questioned as they were getting the rental to drive the hour long trip to Lima. Santana’s pointed questioned hit home because Rachel stiffened slightly. “Still got a lady boner for Fabgay, I see,” Santana teased.

                Rachel scoffed, but her voice rose. “I never had a lady boner for Quinn!”

                Kurt rolled his eyes in time with Santana’s own eye roll and her “Oh please, Berry. We all know you want to taste her berries. I _know_ about the flower.”

                Rachel gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. Kurt, who had been practicing tuning them out in preparation for the kids he and Blaine would someday have, picked up on that statement. “Wait, what flowers?”

                “Shut up!” Rachel hissed. Santana felt no pains about releasing said information because it wasn’t Rachel’s secret that she was breaking, nor was it Quinn’s. In fact, she was pretty sure that Quinn never knew, and it wasn’t something that Kurt would just go and tell her, either. So really all she was doing was making Rachel uncomfortable.  

                “Junior prom, Rachie here picked out the corsage for Quinn.”

                She very carefully didn’t say Finn’s name, and Rachel didn’t either. “He asked me for help and I merely suggested a flower he should get Quinn for a corsage, no big deal.”

“Yea, no big deal. Hummel, ask her what flower she suggested.”

                “Why, what flower?”

                “Should I tell him, or would you like to, Rachel?”

                “You are a horrible person, Santana. You know that?”

                Santana shrugged. “Maybe, but I look good while I’m doing it.”

                Kurt nearly swerved, looking at Rachel. “What am I missing out on?”

                “I told him to get her a gardenia.”

                 Kurt’s face scrunched up in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

                “It means hidden love,” Santana supplied.

                Rachel bit down on her lip to stave back her classic tears. “How do _you_ know what it means,” Rachel demanded. “And how do you know what flower I told him to get her anyway?”

                “Don’t apply logic to Lopez, Hobbit.”

                “Why are you all quiet over there, Kurt?” Rachel questioned timidly, anxious to know what Kurt’s response would be to one of her biggest high school secrets.

                Kurt shrugged. “From the way the two of you were carrying on, I thought it would be some huge piece of gossip, or something. It’s kind of sweet that you’ve liked Quinn that long.”

                “What do you mean _that long_?” Rachel demanded.

                Kurt scoffed. “Come on, Rach, you’re kind of obvious. We were all close in Glee club, but the only one that you _insisted_ on staying in touch with was Quinn, the girl nearly died trying to prevent you from marrying someone else that wasn’t her, and somehow the two of your hands kept brushing each other in song numbers, or you’d forget _not_ to look at her ass, and she and Santana dropped everything to make sure that you didn’t do that god awful student film. That doesn’t exactly sound like gal pals to me.”

                Rachel didn’t respond to this revelation, and Santana’s thoughts went down roads different from the one that she was currently driving down with Kurt and Rachel. She hadn’t seen Quinn since the morning after the wedding, hadn’t even talked to Quinn since the morning after the wedding, and she wasn’t quite sure why she had lied to Kurt about it, but somehow she felt that she and Quinn was meant to be kept a secret. If Rachel’s actions had been telling, she wondered what her actions meant.

                “I wonder how Brittany’s doing?” Rachel said, and the statement was definitely pointed. “Ever since she went off to MIT no one’s really heard from her, I bet she’s really busy, though it’s still hard to picture Brittany being this mega genius like everyone claims she is.”

                The ever present urge to defend Brittany, even when she wasn’t present, rose. “Britts always been a genius,” Santana said defensively. “Everyone else has always just been too stupid to see it.”

                 “Does Dani know Brittany’s going to be there?” Rachel leered, sounding a lot like Santana. God, they really had gotten close to each other in these past few months.

                _“Babe?”_

_Santana looked up, distracted. “Yea?”_

_“You alright?” Santana nodded. “Then what’s got you concentrating so hard?”_

_“I’m going home this weekend. Graduation.”_

_“What are you not telling me?”_

_Santana laughed, softly. “Everything.”_

_Dani sighed. “I’m breaking up with you.”_

_This brought Santana out of her musings. She was frowning and looking for something that she might have missed in Dani’s features. “What, why?”_

_Dani looked resigned, but not mad. “Because I don’t want to receive a 1 a.m. text telling me that you’re breaking up with me.”_

_“W-why would I do that?”_

_“So you wouldn’t cheat.”_

_“Just because I’m going home doesn’t mean I’m about to cheat on you! I wouldn’t do that!”_

_“I know,” Dani said. “Because you’d send me a break up text right before it happened, thus I’m breaking up with you.” Santana started to open her mouth to protest. “Santana, look at me.” She did. “I’m_ telling _you that you can do whatever you want this week and there will be no hurt feelings, no strings, no complications, just come back to me. When you do, take me out to dinner. If you don’t, I know you don’t want to get back together.”_

_“We’re not getting back together, because we’re not breaking up!” Santana said, sharply._

_“Then I’ll be waiting for you to take me out to dinner.” Dani said, simply. “I won’t consider you my girlfriend again until you do.”_

_“We’re not going to even discuss this?”_

_Dani kissed her, taking her breath away. “No.”_

                “She knows,” Santana answered, and Rachel smiled because she had finally succeeded in shutting Santana up.


	6. The Show Must Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel learns a hard life lesson.

_Bushwick, New York, 2014_

                “Rach?” Kurt called tentatively, appearing at the entrance of her ‘room’. “Sweetie, I made tea. Don’t you want to get up and drink some tea?” Blearily, Rachel looked at Kurt, before rolling over so that she no longer was facing in his direction. She felt the indention in the bed when Kurt sat down beside her. “Please, Rach? You haven’t left your bed all weekend.”

                “Go away, Kurt.”

                “Honey, I know you’re sad…”

                Rachel huffed. “Sad? Sad is when you can’t find your favorite shirt to wear when you have a big test coming up. I’m not sad, Kurt. I’m utterly devastated. I feel like a part of me has died. Please, just leave me alone.”

                 Kurt hesitated. Part of him wanted to just chop it up to she would eventually get over it, but they had already reached the ‘eventually’, and she wasn’t getting over it. She hadn’t even been like this after Finn died, and hey, why would she be when Finn had only been her future for a few short months, but she had lost the actual love of her life. Of course she would be devastated.

                Mercedes was the next to try. She too sat down on the bed beside Rachel, wondering what she should say. If Rachel noticed (and she didn’t) she would have realized that Mercedes looked very tired and was 10 pounds lighter, but she still smiled before she said what Kurt wouldn’t. “Girl, it reeks in here! And it’s dusty, why don’t you shower while I…err…air out,” and she gestured vaguely, because the truth was that the whole place needed some sprucing up, some Fabreeze, and one of those little trees that you hung up in your car.

                Rachel allowed herself to take in her friend and sometimes rival. In contrast to Mercedes, Rachel had actually gained a few pounds because Blaine kept bringing her the food that he had sworn not to touch anymore. The rich, creamy, chocolatey, fatty foods, that you felt comfortable eating when you were down, and let’s face it, Rachel was pushed into the ground right now. He would sit with her while she ate them, and they wouldn’t talk about anything, just silently nurse their own heartaches together. The weight gain was needed because between Finn and how jam packed her schedule had been for the past few months, she had entered into almost unhealthy levels of skinny. But the unhealthy foods made her skin waxy looking, and she even had pimples every now and then, all of which didn’t matter because she had been avoiding the mirror.

                “Mercedes, while I appreciate your concern, I have been dealt a very serious life blow, and frankly I think it’s quite insensitive of you to try to cajole me into getting past it before I’ve had an amble amount of time to process. I know that you all look up to me to be a shining beacon and personal inspiration, and I am so sorry that I have let you down, but I will be okay, I just need a little bit of time. So please respect my wishes, and leave me to my ruminations.”

                Although Mercedes was incredibly worried about the Diva, as she got up and silently shook her head at an anxious Kurt who was standing nearby, she wondered why Rachel’s depression couldn’t, at the very least, make her more succinct.

                Blaine, who so far had had the most luck, came but most often he didn’t say anything, nor attempt to get her to talk, or to get her off the bed. They just ate. Sometimes they cried together. On occasion they watched TV, but then there was some dumb bird singing during the commercial break, and she broke down again.

                The next time Kurt went in to talk to her, Rachel had demanded, “Where’s Santana? Why has everyone else come, and I have yet to see _her_? Isn’t this the point where she tells me how much of a loser and how untalented I am, and that I can take comfort in knowing that I may not have a future but I will at least always be able to get discount youth admission rates at the county fair? Or does she just not care? I suppose our friendship is completely over since she married Brittany, and now there is just no room in her life for me.” Her words made her feel even worse because in a short amount of time she had kind of grown to depend on Santana, trusting implicitly her Mexican Third Eye, or at least her abilities to scheme. She had been thinking about it for a while now, and felt like Santana was like Oz, quietly twisting away at the dials behind the scenes. But then the thought made her think of the _Wizard of Oz_ , then _Wicked_ , which of course was on Broadway, and she wasn’t, and she got more depressed.

                “Santana’s on a shoot in Boston,” Kurt told her in a way that made her think that she had asked the question before, several times, and he was just flat out tired of answering the same question.

                “How could she leave me?” Rachel questioned to herself, feeling so utterly and desperately alone, if even Santana thought she was so pathetic that she didn’t feel the need to tease.

                It wasn’t that _Funny Girl_ had closed after a very, very brief opening, that had made Rachel so despondent. You know, sometimes things just weren’t a hit, and doing a remake of a beloved play was always risqué. It wasn’t just that this was the role that she had felt that she had been born to play, either, or that while scathing, it wasn’t (just) that the _Broadway Minute_ had called her an ‘undisciplined, pretentious Barbra Streisand wannabe with half the talent and twice the ego’, or that _Broadway Destination_ had said that ‘ _Funny Girl,_ so aptly named because it is quite humorous that their adaptation was even conceived, much less brought to the stage, and that Berry felt ready enough to tackle the role’, (and it went on from there). No it wasn’t those things that had made her take to bed. Not entirely. It was the fact that she had invested everything, all her talent, her heart, and her soul into a _tax write-off_.

                 That Mr. Slocomb had, in fact, been looking for _her_ , for a very young NYADA or NYU actress, with talent (because besides the _Minute_ and the _Destination_ it was agreed that she did have talent) _,_ but who was too naïve to realize that she was carrying a doomed production, because the sad truth of the matter was that _Funny Girl_ had never been implemented to succeed. No, she had been too busy feeling herself to question how she (and Santana) had gotten so lucky as to land such a role at such an age with so little experience, (because she was just _that_ talented), nor how it didn’t seem like any true talent had showed up for the audition for her understudy. And while she was busy being tickled by the kick back, attention, and swag for the production, she was eagerly giving her young career over to a shill.

                What made the whole situation infinitely worse was how badly she had been conned. As the titular actress for the play, even if the rest of the Broadway circle knew that the play was supposed to flop, she had just set her career back, perhaps into nonexistence, because if your first play flops, you didn’t just start back at the beginning, you had to work your way up from three feet under. What would have been the best thing to do in this situation would have been for her to disappear for a few years, do a couple of community plays, and then try again. The best place to do this, of course, (and especially considering her age), was in college, but here was where she had screwed herself royally because not only had she closed _that_ bridge, she’d blocked it off, poured out the gasoline, and set it on fire. So she couldn’t go back to NYADA, and one thing that Rachel hadn’t realized (because youth doesn’t always grasp such things) is the importance of connections. New York may have been the big city, but it was a very, very small town. And Rachel, who was from Lima, Ohio, should have known the cardinal rule of small towns: it’s all about connections.

                Carmen Tibideaux was revered, accomplished, talented, and _very_ well connected. So Rachel became blacklisted from any considerable New York performance arts school, and she had been blacklisted from Broadway. Quite simply she had been blacklisted from New York. So she was in bed because her whole entire life had been all about Broadway, and it had been taken away because of pride. This was the very definition of hubris, and she didn’t like it, and she didn’t know what to do with herself because what happens when you have to give up your life’s dream? So, she stayed in bed, and slowly the money that she had made during her brief moment of stardom was slowly going down the drain because the kind of real estate that she and Kurt were living in in New York, much like dreams, didn’t come cheap.

                Brittany was next, and because she seemed to have swallowed the sun and carried it around in her back pocket, was able to convince Rachel to let her tend to her. She ran her a bubble bath with hot water, and two of her favorite rubber duckies, and she coaxed Rachel to take an hour and a half long bath, and while she was out of the room, Kurt, Mercedes, and Sam touched every surface of her space, and they washed her sheets, and her pillow cases, and burned two pairs of sweats. After the bath, Brittany bundled her up in an excessive amount of clothes, and took her to the zoo. Brittany skipped when she walked, throwing in a little dance step every now and then, and it was only a matter of time before Rachel broke into laughter.

                When Rachel returned to the loft, for the first time in months she had some actual color to her face, and they had their first Monday Night Pot Luck together (on a Wednesday) since Rachel became a hermit. Under the lights of their dining space Rachel noticed a change in Mercedes (but not the weight loss, because it was only 10 lbs.), but wasn’t sure what it was. Sam was his usual joyful, yet idiotic self, Artie was idly talking about switching his major to the sciences, Brittany was bubbly and talking over everyone, Santana mostly sat quietly holding her wife’s hand, and Blaine sat on the opposite side of the table, and neither he, nor Kurt, threw themselves much into the conversation.

                “How was Boston?” Rachel asked Santana petulantly, when they were alone in the kitchen doing the dishes together.

                 Santana laughed in a mocking way, and gave an eye-roll. “It was just fantastic, Berry. I would have invited you to come, but since you were doing your best rendition of a vegetable, I couldn’t have you cramping my style.”

                Of course her words lacked any real bite. Although Rachel could only sense that there was something different with Mercedes, with Santana she could _see_ and _feel_ it. Santana seemed happy, but…and what came after ‘but’ she didn’t know. Santana was gaining weight, too; she was starting to look healthy again because, although Rachel would have never said it to her, she had been feeling that Santana had been losing too much of it. Santana was still slim and always would be, but she looked healthier now, yet, she still seemed permanently tired. When she remembered that Santana was still a newlywed, and thought about the things newlyweds did, she realized that there might be just cause for that tiredness.

                When Rachel went to bed that night, she was completely and utterly exhausted, and she would have spent the whole of the next day, and the next, and the next sleeping if the next round of people trying to pull Rachel out of her funk didn’t contain one Quinn Fabray. Rachel felt like her heart stopped when she saw her standing in the doorway, and shrank further into the bed.

                “What is this that I’ve been hearing, Berry?” she demanded. “That you’ve been carbo-loading, stinking up the place, and have actually molded yourself into the sheets of your bed?”

                Rachel sniffled at the sight of her. “Where have you been?”

                Quinn arrogantly flipped her hair. “In case you didn’t realize it, the workload at Yale is incredibly difficult. I recently had to readjust my focus since I switched my major, and Santana _only_ just called me a few days ago to let me know that you have completely lost your mind.” She waved her hands as if she were modeling a new hand cream, before she posed. “And so I’m here.”

                She wasn’t wearing a cardigan, or a dress, but she was wearing a skirt with knee high boots, and a shirt that could only be the influence of Puck. She looked happy, she looked settled, she looked… _free_. Rachel could admit that it made her jealous, when she should have been happy that Quinn was finally allowing herself to let go. The cane that stood in the corner, however, served as a startling reminder that her jealousy should only be short lived, and she wondered if Quinn had brought it for that very reason.

                “What’s going on Rachel?” she demanded. There was little compassion in her voice. It had the intended effect. Without any desire to, she started spilling out her guts to the girl who used to torture her. She completely laid herself out, told her fears, her doubts, her worries. Quinn listened, her eyes void of emotion, her lips pressed into a line. Rachel realized midway that she was talking not to the woman that had first come into the room, but to the former cheerleader who had made her life hell, but she didn’t stop talking, and knew she’d pay for it later.

                Quinn waited until Rachel had completely stopped talking, before she looked down her perfect, surgically altered, nose at her. “Rachel, would you like a list of things that weren’t in my plans?” Quinn demanded, prettily, her voice soft, and silky, the way it sounded when she was at her most dangerous. “Let’s see: I wasn’t Prom Queen, I had a child at 16, I got kicked out of my parents’ house and became homeless, living in four different places in the span of six months. Ryan Seacrest, becoming a skank, getting hit by a truck, a _truck_ , and wondering if I would ever get the chance to walk again.” Rachel’s eyes fell to the cane that was standing upright in the corner. “And now I’m dating Puck.” She considered the statement, smiling slightly. “Again. Also…not in my plan.”

                Rachel was waiting for the blow to come, but surprisingly it didn’t. “But I’m still here,” she found Quinn saying. I’m slowly realizing that we don’t get to tell life where we want to go, life tells us, and we hang on, because if we don’t, we get thrown off. We learn to adapt or-,”at this she gave a very pointed look at Rachel, “we lose.

                “Rach, you can feel sorry for yourself if you want. I’ll give you that 2013 was a bad year for you.  You lost the man you were going to marry as well as your dream. That’s a lot, it is. I’m not going to tell you that it’s not. I’m also not going to say that everything else will be perfect, because every last one of us, at some point, is going to die, and we’re going to lose each other, and life is or isn’t going to work out the way that we want it. That’s not the point. The point is that if you don’t figure things out, and soon, you’re going to end up having to move back home to stay with your dads, and then you’ll have to try to figure things out in the job market in Lima, which, in case you haven’t been paying attention, isn’t all that big. So the choice is yours. I know that it’s scary, and you’re hurt, and you feel like Broadway, or New York, betrayed you, but you’re only a loser if you don’t get your ass back up. Do you really want the story of Rachel Berry to end right here? Or are you going to get your act together because frankly I can’t be friends with a Lima Loser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this story kind of jumps around a lot, but honestly I’m just writing it as the stuff comes to me. If it helps, think of it as a series of sort of related one-shots. I know how this ends, and as for pairings, the only cut in stone ones are Tina and Mike, and Sam and Mercedes. Santana was married to Brittany, they have a child together, but they are not still married at the point where the story starts. This fic is mostly canon up until 5x16 “Tested”. Any other questions, just ask! Thanks for reading!


	7. Co-Parenting and Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana and Brittany chat, and she and Quinn get drunk.

_Lima, Ohio, 2022_

                The sun had gone down by the time she made it back to the hotel. She checked the time and started dialing familiar digits. She was surprised when she heard a slight breath before, “Hey, S…uhm, Santana, I’ll go get A.C.”

                Brittany’s voice sounded so detached and professional that Santana was desperate to hear it change. “Wait, Britt…how are you?”

                Santana could almost see Brittany pausing, smiling. “Good. Was your flight okay? Did you get settled in?”

                “The flight was fine. I’m settled, too. No complications. How did your meeting go?”

                “Saunders upstaged me. If he ends up with the Baxter account over me, I’m going to be pretty upset, but it is what it is. No big deal.”

                “Sorry, Britt.”

                She could hear her shaking it off, smiling it away. “No problem! I can’t wait until the weekend! I was thinking about coming on Thursday. That way Maribel and Luis can have a whole day with A.C., my parents can have a whole day with her, and we can take her around town on Sunday.”

                “Sounds like a plan, Britt.”

                “When will you be flying in?”

                Until Brittany had said that, Santana had forgotten that she had lied to her in order to come down early. “Thursday night,” Santana said, quickly. She looked around her hotel room. She’d have to check out Thursday morning just to check back into a double so she and Brittany could share a room. She sighed. She never thought she would have gotten divorced from her best friend.

                “That works out perfect then,” Brittany exclaimed happily. “We can share. I could always stay with my folks, but” _I don’t want to sleep away from A.C._ Santana mouthed along with Brittany. It seemed to be one of Brittany’s favorite sayings. She didn’t blame her, not at all, because the worst thing about this divorce situation was that she didn’t get to see her daughter as much as she wanted. It meant that if she wanted to see her every day, she had to see Brittany every day. It meant that if she wanted to not be one of those crazy families you see on TV, they had to be amicable. It meant that even though it pained her to be so close to Brittany, _all the time,_ that she had to make concessions, because Aurora deserved two parents, even if those parents apparently didn’t work together.

                “Sharing’s fine,” Santana assured her ex. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

                Brittany recognized she’d been dismissed. She turned her mouth away from the phone. “A.C.? It’s mami!”

                Santana had to wait only seconds, and she knew her little monkey had jumped up into her mom’s arms. “Mami!” Aurora cried happily. “Did you land? Are you there? Do you miss me? I’ve got a new spit spot” (freckle), “Its name is Melton. See!”

                It never ceased to amaze Santana how much like Brittany her daughter was. They were both ditzy blondes, even though Aurora wasn’t blonde, and like Brittany, she was a tomboy with endless energy who enjoyed running after and kissing both boys and girls in the school yard. She even had her mom’s freckles across her nose. Unlike Brittany, though, she didn’t try to befriend everyone, but she was fiercely loyal to her friends, she never backed down from a fight, and she had a sharp tongue; all traits Brittney chalked up to the Lopez part of her. Santana was convinced that somehow their donor was related, and Aurora Cecilia Pierce-Lopez was an actual genetic match to the two of them.

                Sadly, after about 20 minutes Santana finally had to put a stop to her daughter’s ramblings. “Aurora, I have to say night-night now. It’s past your bed time and you’re not slick.” Thankfully, Aurora didn’t try her luck. “Okay, mami,” she said. “Mom says that we get ta see you in six days! I’m gonna count every night, kay?”

                “Okay.”

                “I’m sending you butterfly kisses through the phone. Can you feel them?”

                Santana nodded. “Yea.”

                “Love you, mami!”

                “Love you, ‘Rora. Let me speak to mom, okay?”

                “ ‘Kay.”

                The phone was handed off. She could tell that Brittany got on the phone, just by her breathing. “Night, B,” she said.

                “Night, S.”

                _Love you._ She hung up the phone. The sad thing was that she knew that in her head, Brittany had said ‘Love you, too’.

                Not even a minute passed before she was dialing Quinn’s number. She picked up on the first ring. “What’s up, San?”

                “Let’s get drunk.”

               Quinn was happy to oblige.

* * *

 

                 “I don’t, I don’t believe in soul mates,” Quinn slurred. They were in their spot, the spot that had been theirs since the moment that Lucy Q had moved to Lima, Ohio, and Santana had taught her to be the head bitch that had sometimes ruled over McKinley High. She hadn’t taught her how to be cold, and seemingly heartless, no she had Russell to thank for that. What she had taught Quinn, that spring and summer before their freshman year of high school, was how to break out of the shy shell her bad skin, glasses, and body size had pushed her into.

                Here was where she had taught her how to walk like she was in charge, talk like she was in charge, believe that she was worthy of being on top. Quinn had lacked confidence so Santana had manufactured it for her. Most of the animosity that the two had shown at school (prior to sophomore year, and still even then) had been an act, similar to the way that Brittany had realized that if she acted ditzy, people would let her get away with just about anything. Very few people ever realized that Brittany was just as manipulative and calculating as Santana and Quinn. After all the three of them had bonded together for a reason.

                In a sense Santana had made Quinn Fabray. Lucy, who was friendless and more often than not ignored by her sister and her parents, was more than eager to let her new friend ‘Tana shape her into ‘Quinn’. Santana was pretty, had a tongue like a knife, had already kissed a boy, and she had a plan that would set them up firmly as McKinley High royalty something she could only dream of, so Lucy was more than willing to fall in line, even if that plan had her at the front of the pack. And since Quinn was Santana’s creation it became an unspoken rule of their friendship that no matter how low the insults between them got, Lucy was forever off limits. Santana had always respected that.

                Nearly fifteen years later, the two of them were back at the point where it had all started, making short work of the bottle of Tequila Quinn had bought. “Don’t forget, we have to drink it all. I can’t take it home with me,” Quinn was saying for the 9th time since they got there. Santana was keeping track. “Mom has been soo good.”

                “Don’t worry, Quinnie, we will,” Santana assured her. “I haven’t gotten drunk like this since Aurora was born.”

                A sudden though occurred to Quinn. “San! We’re both moms now! Except I’m a mom without a baby, which I don’t know what that makes me. I bet Beth is a knock-out by now. Me and Puck made a pretty baby, didn’t we? She’d be-?”

                “12,” Santana answered readily.

                Quinn whistled. “ _Wow_ ,” she said. “She’s almost the age we were when we first met. Do you remember, San?”

                Santana nodded. “I remember.”

                “You were _so_ pretty,” Quinn reminisced. “I couldn’t believe you wanted to be _my_ friend.”

                Santana quirked an eyebrow. “Were?”

                “Ass,” Quinn hissed. “You know you’re still hot.”

                Santana laughed, but wondered if a woman who wore mom jeans could be considered hot. “You know what I remember? I remember that you had such sad eyes. I wanted to see you smile.” She slowly undid the top of the bottle and swallowed. “Who’d uh thought that we’d still be friends, all these years later?”

                “I keep trying to get rid of you, but you keep coming back. I’m starting to think I’m stuck with you,” Quinn murmured. She leaned back on the grass, facing skyward so she could see the stars. “Member when we claimed them?” Quinn questioned. “There you are, right there. You were always Orion. And I was Draco. How fitting.”

                “You made yourself Draco,” Santana reminded her. “You were Ursa Minor first, remember?”

                “Right, the little bear.”

                Santana searched the sky for the other constellation, unable to remember if this was the wrong time of year to see it. “Brittany was Pegasus,” she whispered.

                “Until you made her Polaris.”

                “Yea, cause she shined brighter than every other star.” Quinn let out a huff.  “What’s that mean?”

                “Nothing,” Quinn responded. “Except she never really was that bright,” Quinn said, not intending for it to be heard, but Santana heard it.

                She bit down on her lip, but it would have taken too much energy to attack Quinn for that statement. Besides, weren’t they too old to go around slapping each other? “She was to me,” Santana responded.

                They sat in thought for a couple of minutes. “Do you think you’re still Draco?”

                “I don’t think I’m much of anything these days,” Quinn huffed.

                “Don’t be stupid, Q, everyone’s something.”

                “Okay, then who are you?”

                Santana didn’t hesitate. “Scorpius.”

                Quinn gave a loud scoff. “As if! You lost all your venom years ago, Lopez! You, Santana, are Delphinius.”

                “That sounds like something Brittany would say. She once told Finn that dolphins are just gay sharks.”

                Quinn laughed. “That sounds like Brittany.” She struggled not to get distracted. “I think Delphinius is perfect for you. You’re sleek, graceful, a community animal, who can, and will, come out fighting if she needs to protect the rest of her community. You’re definitely a dolphin.”

                Santana considered Quinn’s words. “That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Quinn.”

                “I’m drunk,” Quinn dismissed. “If I’m not, Draco, then who am I? The little bear, still?” Underneath her breath she sang out, “ _Lucy Q, what would you do, if ever danger came to you? Just be brave, and don’t get scared,”_

Santana pointed out Orion, and finished the chant: “T _his hunter protects little bears.”_

The two of them laughed loudly, a sound that wasn’t entirely friendly. They both ignored the sadness in their laughs. “God, we were something, weren’t we?”

                “I’m surprised you still remember that.”

                “I’m surprised you do.”

                “Acquila,” Santana said suddenly, catching Quinn by surprise. “You’re Acquila now, but with a broken wing.”

                Quinn sat in silent contemplation, but then took another drink of her bottle because she didn’t know how to process that. In the silence Santana started to think things that she didn’t want to. She pointed vaguely. “Somewhere over there is the Finn Hudson,” Santana blurted. Quinn tilted her head. “After Rachel and Blaine broke up, we drove out to Arizona and she showed me the star. You have to have a telescope to see him, but it’s there.” Santana wondered how many other people had given a name to that exact star, but it didn’t really matter because to the people who mattered that particular co-ordinance would always be the Finn Hudson.

                Quinn had a startling moment of clarity. “Did you come early just to visit his grave?”

                She didn’t expect Santana to answer, so she was surprised when she did. “Yes.”

                “Why?”

                “I didn’t hate him,” Santana responded, staring up at the sky.

                Quinn hesitated, but after a moment she let her hand fall on top of Santana’s. “I know. Kitty told me.”

                Santana blanched because that meant the only person she would have gotten that information from would have been Coach Sylvester. Quinn seemed to know Santana’s thoughts. “She didn’t say that you didn’t hate him, she just told me that you went all bat-shit crazy on Sue, and Mercedes said that you broke down in the middle of your song for him. I figure if you went through all that over him, it meant you didn’t hate him.”

                “Damn does everyone just talk about me?”

                “Wow, ego much? No, we don’t just have a Santana talk-a-thon, but Kitty and I do still talk on occasion, and she just mentioned it in passing.”

                “Is that bitch still evil?”

                Quinn rolled her eyes. “Don’t call her a bitch, and I’ve already admitted that you were right about Marley. Get over it, San.”

                “How did you and Mercedes get on that lovely topic?”

                “She just brought it up after we talked. We’re…good friends. Sisters. We once lived together, you know?”

                “I always forget that.”

                “A lot of people do.”

                “How is she? I haven’t talked to her in a couple of months. I mean really.”

                “She’s,” Quinn hesitated, considered. “One day at a time.”

                “I wonder, you know, if it’s our fault,” Santana admitted. Santana’s guilt knew no bounds.

                “If there was anyone to blame in that regards, then blame Sue because she was probably the first to put the seeds there, but no, it’s no one’s fault. It’s just the world, and the way she sees it. She’s working on it.”

                Santana was glad to hear that she was getting better, and even happier to know that this, at least, was something that she didn’t have to worry about. “I never thought I’d say this, but I like Sam for her.”

                Quinn nodded. “Me too,” she agreed, heartily. “Sam’s a good guy; the only reason you don’t like him is because he dated Brittany.”

                “No, I don’t like him because he put Cheerios on the ground and let her eat off of it.” Quinn turned toward Santana, and fixed her with a look. “And because he dated Brittany. Almost married Brittany. Had a post-apocalyptic sex marathon with Brittany and then boasted about it.”

                “You two were broken up!”

                “Doesn’t matter,” Santana dismissed. “He put fucking Cheerios on the _ground_! And let her _eat_ them!”

                “And Artie gave her a dirty comb and let her hold on to it, and her first time was probably only half-way consensual. Be fair, Santana, the only person who was ever really good for Brittany was you.”

                Santana grunted in protest. “Why do you do that, Q?”

                Quinn was confused. She was certain she had just handed Santana a compliment. “What’d I do?”

                “Act like it was my fault. The divorce.”

                They never talked about it. “Was it?”

                Santana sat up. “It was nobody’s fault. We just…don’t fit.”

                “Bull. You two are,”

                “Soul mates? I thought you didn’t believe in them.” Quinn didn’t know how to respond, so she decided not to. “And just so you know, Q, I hated Sam because even though B and I were broken up, it wasn’t supposed to be official or anything.”

                “How many people did _you_ date during this ‘unofficial’ break up?”

                Santana played with her fingers. “No one.”

                Quinn rolled her eyes. “Oh, I forgot: sex isn’t dating to Ms. Never-say-no Lopez. How many people did you have sex with, then?”

                “Sex isn’t dating if you are a closet lesbian who thinks that you can screw yourself straight,” Santana said irritably. She took a long swallow of the tequila. “I had an ‘energy exchange’ at Louisville, I lied about dating one of the cheerleaders on the team, I moved to New York, got hit on a lot at the bar, had a couple of dirty men let their hands wander, I slept with my best friend at my former teacher’s failed wedding, and you know, and then got married to Brittany.”

                Quinn sifted her way through the list. “What about Dani?”

                “We never slept together. We were taking things slow. Getting to know each other.”

                Quinn blinked. “Oh.”

                “You’re not all to blame for that one,” Santana said. “So don’t let yourself feel too guilty about that.”

                “I’m the first woman that you slept with after you and Brittany broke up?” Quinn realized.

                Santana toyed with the tequila bottle. “No, you’re the only woman that I’ve slept with after Brittany and I broke up.”

                Quinn took the bottle from Santana’s hands and took an extra-long swallow. Feeling courageous she questioned, “Why didn’t you call?”

                Santana didn’t ask for clarification because she didn’t need it. “You called her name.”

                “Who’s?”

                “Rachel’s.”

                Quinn frowned. “When?”

                Santana squinted at Quinn. “When do you think, tubbers?” Santana hissed, quickly holding up a finger. “Sorry, habit. It was after our fourth one-time thing. You called out her name right before you passed out. I didn’t call you after because I figured that you had just come home irritable at men and curious about what it’d be like to sleep with a woman so you screwed your promiscuous lesbian best friend because she was close enough to who you used to fantasize about, and you needed a reminder of just how much you enjoy dick. So I didn’t call,” Santana concluded. If Santana had realized how bitter the words would have sounded coming out, she wouldn’t have said them. She didn’t realize she was still bitter over the whole thing.

                Quinn covered her mouth. “Oh.”

                “Oh?” Santana repeated.

                “San, I’m so…sorry, I didn’t know that, I didn’t realize that your relationship with girls was…I mean in high school…”

                “Why didn’t you ever just ask her out?” This time her voice was pleading. “I understand the panic in high school, maybe, but after we went at it, I mean there wasn’t really anything else in the way, and after that you had to know that you liked women, and don’t say it’s ‘cause you’re not gay, because generally speaking straight girls won’t go down on another girl unless they are at least bi.”

                She blushed. “I’ve realized that,” Quinn responded. “Being bi,” she elaborated. “Will you laugh at me if I told that you that the fact that I almost died because I wanted to prevent her from marrying Finn made me think that God was trying to tell me that it wasn’t something that I should pursue?”

                “No, I’m not going to laugh. Is that what’s still preventing you from doing it now?”

                Quinn shook her head. “No. I just don’t have the same inclination anymore. Things change, San. None of us are with the people that we thought we’d be with forever. I’m too old to go chasing down a high school crush.”

                Santana shrugged. “Might be worth it,” she suggested. Quinn met her gaze and the two stared at each other for the longest time, neither of them looking away. “Did _you_ come early just to talk to Finn?” Quinn nodded. “Why?”

                “Why do you think?”

                “Guilt’s one hell of a feeling, isn’t it?” Santana remarked.

                Quinn nodded tiredly. She fell back down, closer to Santana this time. “I…well I once asked him to do something that I’m not entirely proud about, even if it was the right thing.”

                “Care to elaborate?”

                “Not until you do.” Santana wasn’t drunk enough. “I did hate him,” Quinn admitted. Santana wished that she was surprised. “I hated everything that he stood for, everything that he was. He was always standing in my way, and god, he was such a fucking jerk!” Santana nodded. Quinn felt the anger ebbing. How stupid was it to be angry at someone who was dead? “I just…I have trouble not hating people who hurt the ones that I love.”

                Santana felt like she was going to be sick. This was why she’d come early; she was supposed to be alone. She _really_ didn’t want to be here with Quinn. Finn’s ghost was bad enough. She heard that word once again, _Coward_. How was it that she could hear his voice so freaking clearly, when even his memory was starting to fade?

                She stared up at the stars, blinking away tears that she hoped Quinn wouldn’t look over and notice. “San?” The concern in her voice told Santana that she did. She felt a hand touch her arm. Quinn’s fingers tentatively walked down Santana’s arm, until they reached her hand. Reluctantly she turned it over, so Quinn’s hand could rest in her own. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

                Santana didn’t answer, which was answer enough. 


	8. A Knockout Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana and Finn square off.

_Lima, Ohio, 2011_

                Santana threw a well-aimed left hook that was just shy of landing on Finn’s cheek, and followed that up with a jab to his torso. Finn blocked her next shot, and next, but got careless, and Santana was able to land a pretty nice uppercut. Most of her blows to his face didn’t touch him because he was so freakishly tall, so she worked his body until he would lean over, and if she got a shot, she had to take it. She was just preparing to land another punch when Finn’s fist broke through her defenses and landed square on the side of her face. “Oh, Fuck Hudson! That hit me right in my jaw, you damn Neanderthal! I’m more than a hundred pounds lighter than you!”

                “Oh, let me see,” Finn demanded. He took his glove off, and raised a hand to Santana’s jaw, but she pulled back sharply.

                “Oh quit being a baby,” Finn mumbled. “It’s not going to even bruise.”

                “That’s because you were holding back. What the hell?”

                The constipated baby look crossed his face. “First you beg me to fight, then you yell at me for hitting you, now you’re mad because I didn’t hit you _hard_ enough?”

                “I’m mad because you weren’t doing your best.”

                “You had me off balance trying to get away from your hook. I didn’t have the range; that wasn’t me holding back.”

                “It better not have been, because if someone’s trying to attack me, they’re not going to hold back either.”

                “If someone’s trying to attack you, you run, Santana.”

                “I’m not some weak, scared-,”

                Finn grabbed her arm sharply, sharp enough to let her know that he wasn’t playing around. Sharp enough to scare her as he stared down fiercely at her. “You run!” he repeated. “Promise me, that.”

                “I-,”

                “Damn it, you owe me that. Promise me!”

                Santana pulled herself away, shaking him off. “Alright fine, Hudson, unbunch your panties.”

                Finn let go of her arm, and sank to the floor, pulling off his other boxing glove as he did so. With a sigh, Santana sat down beside him. Finn threw an arm around her, and Santana snuggled against him. It wasn’t affectionate, it was automatic. Just the way the two of them were.

                “I’ll promise, but you have to promise me that you’ll cut back on your extracurricular activities, do you get me?”

                “Have I ever said anything to you when you’ve gotten drunk or high? You’ve never seen me be either.”

                He had a point. You could always count on Finn to be the designated driver because he never drank at parties. Ever. But somehow Santana didn’t think that it was the same thing. At all.

                “I’m just feeling anxious,” Finn mumbled.

                “You know that my window’s always open to you?”

                “Yea, I know. So what’s got you wanting to go all Million Dollar Baby over here? Trouble among the Unholy?”

                “Screw you.”

                “You did.”

                Santana smiled. “Oh, right. Best 15 seconds of your life.”

                “Will you stop telling people that I can’t hang? I freaking rocked your world!”

                “Why should I? That was never part of the deal. Besides, the experience meant nothing to you, remember. I’m nothing to you.”

                Finn ran his free hand over his face. “ _It_ was nothing to me. Santana, you’re good at sex, we both know that, but it doesn’t mean much when you treated it like it was one of Sue Sylvester’s more intense work out regimes. So it meant nothing.”

                “Just a boost to your status as a rock star.”

                “God, give it up!”

                “I will if you stop making it seem like I took something from you when you’re the one who asked for it. Begged me, if I recall.”

                “I know, but God, do you have any idea how much it sucks being around you? Being with you?”

                “Then up your therapy, and leave me the hell alone!”

                “You are my therapy,” Finn responded. Besides therapy would do nothing for the two of them. They knew exactly what the other was feeling, they knew about jealousy, about petty feelings, about anger. Lord they knew about the anger. But they were bound to each other, for life, for better or worse. Knowing this, they tried not to utterly destroy the other. They might throw insults back and forth at each other, but they never actually aimed blows where they would hurt. Much. “I can’t quit you,” he added, and it was enough to make Santana smile. Finn changed the topic. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on in girl world?”

                “Prom,” Santana said. “You know how us girls get whenever prom’s around, cause, you know, that’s all life is about.”

                “Quinn’s been kind of psychotic about it. If she wasn’t so hot when she’s scary, I wouldn’t even put up with her.”

              "To be honest, I don't get why she puts up with you. You're cute and all, but she's Quinn Fucking Fabray, and for some reason I can't fathom she wants you, yet you're drooling over Man Hands, of all creatures. Sure she might be hot when she's not some porn director's poster girl, and her voice might just reach the angels, but we're talking about Quinn Fabray. And just so you know, she's scary because she's trying to reclaim something that she lost. You do remember that she had to give up her baby, right? That there's a part of her floating around out there that she's not a part of?"

                 “You forget that I lost Beth, too.”

                “She’s not your baby remember, Einstein?”

                “No, but for a moment in time she was. I sang to her, promised to always protect her. I invested in her.”

                Santana hadn’t realized that he had, and she wondered how that had escaped her notice. “It’s not the same thing, even if you were the father. A mother’s bond is completely different; a baby is actually a part of her that leaves, so suck it up.”

                “Speaking of sucking things up, or just sucking, what the hell is this shit with you and Karofsky?”

                Santana let her face show no emotion. “Why whatever do you mean, Finn?” her voice was so sugary that Finn was surprised she didn’t melt. “Karofsky and I are _in_ _love?_ ”

                 “You’re queerer than a 3-dollar bill, Santana, and we both know it.”

                “Hey, it got Kurt to come back, didn’t I? That was more than you’ve done for him.” Finn flinched but didn’t respond to that. He realized that he deserved at least a little of the crap that he got about Kurt, but he couldn’t help but feel sometimes as if he got a bum rap about the whole deal. Finn could admit, to Santana at least, that gay guys made him anxious, and Kurt _had_ been acting super aggressive towards him. If Finn had been a girl, Kurt would have been called on it, but because he wasn’t, Finn came across as the douche. This wasn’t why he didn’t protect Kurt against Karofsky though. Quite simply, and he admitted this to no one, Karofsky scared him.

                “I have trouble believing that you’re dating Karofsky for that reason, and you could use any sap for a beard, so why him?”

                “Is it so hard to believe that maybe I want to be Prom Queen? Do you know how any many other Hispanic people go to this school? No, ‘cause you probably don’t notice, I do. 38. As much swag as I got, as good looking as I am, do you think that people look at me the same way they do Quinn or Brittany? I might pretend that it doesn’t bother me, but for once, just once, I don’t want to be an outsider I just want a moment where people don’t see me as hot, or exotic, or sexy, but to see me as _pretty._ ”

                “So, what Karofsky told you that you were pretty? God, I can’t even say the name without my blood boiling.”

                “Isn’t it convenient for you that you can magically forget that you used to bully Kurt, too?”

                “I don’t anymore!”

                “And neither does he! Dave…you know what, I’m not about to talk about him. What goes on between me and him stays between me and him. Dave’s my best chance at being Prom Queen and that’s all you need to know.”

                “Whatever,” Finn grumped.

                “Are you jealous, Finn?” Santana demanded with a scoff. “Really? God, your ego! You have the attention of the most desired girl in the school, and you’ve got Berry sniffing after you, but you’re upset because your gay best friend has another guy? _Really_? What else do you need? A fucking chorus line screaming ‘We want Finn’? A freshman sacrifice at your altar?” Finn only pouted. “Are you worried that I’m going to like cuddling with David more than I like cuddling with you?”

                Finn stood up. “Know what, forget it.”

                Santana grunted. “Finn!” She jumped up and grabbed the overgrown baby’s hand. He still looked angry, but he didn’t pull away. “If you need me to say it, I will. No matter what, you will always be the heterosexual love of my life. Like me and Brittany, you and me, we’re in it for life. Except, you know, Brittany will get all the sexy times, and you will forever get all of my insults.”

                Finn shook his head. “Brittany.”

                “Don’t say anything stupid, I’m in a good mood.”

                “You can do so much better.”

                “Oh, and look, we’re done for the day!” Santana snapped. She contemplated giving him a kiss on the cheek in goodbye, but decided to punch him in the arm instead. “Twice for flinching,” she said, when he rubbed his arm, punching him in the same spot. Even though it was supposed to be her storm off, she let Finn leave first because Santana hated leaving him behind, and Finn hated to see her walk away from him.  


	9. Waking up In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam contemplates his and Mercedes Relationship

_Bushwick, New York, 2014_

                Sam woke up feeling like he was channeling Rachel Berry because it was barely 6:15 and he was already up, whistling, and getting ready for his morning workout routine. He had a gym membership, but Sam tried to do as much of his exercises at home, as possible. He was a purist, he liked to do push-ups, sit-ups, squats, dips, and pull-ups. It made him feel like a purist, like he was actually working for the body that he got. After he did his reps, he went for his daily run in the park setting his mind for what he had to do today. He had a shoot later on this afternoon, which was part of the reason that he was up early. But even on the days when he didn’t have a shoot, he still woke up early and had been doing so for the past couple of months.

                 When he talked to his dad about it, Mr. Evans had said that it was because love had changed his inner clockwork. Sam didn’t know how true that was, but he knew that he suddenly didn’t have as much of a desire to sleep in anymore because he was eager for each new day. Some of that was because he was starting to get somewhat consistent work, but he knew that a big portion of why he was so happy had a lot to do with Mercedes and the fact that they were back together. He got up early so that his morning workout routine would be completed by the time that Mercedes got up, so they could have breakfast together, and they could spend their mornings together before Sam was out pounding the pavement looking for modeling gigs, or actually working one, and Mercedes had to go in to the studio.

                Sam wasn’t stupid. Okay, he was, but about love he wasn’t. He knew that love was the highest power in the universe. Didn’t the bible say that it was the greatest gift that God gave them? His parents were in love, and no matter how crappy life had gotten for them, they stuck together through it. Sam wanted that kind of love, the kind that lasted forever, the kind that you knew would withstand every test that was thrown at them, and maybe he had a habit of jumping into things without thinking them through all the way, but he also know that if you hesitated, you lost.

                So maybe he rushed things with Quinn, and maybe he went crazy when it came to Brittany. Maybe he lost his mind when it came to the nurse, and had a pseudo relationship with Blaine, and a not-quite hook up with Tina. When it came to Mercedes, there had been no silly gimmicks, no other reason other than because he wanted to. He hadn’t rushed that relationship. Mercedes had made him work for it, something no one else had ever made him do, and he was finding that it was well worth the effort.

                If he could strip away every little shred of Mercedes that the outside world got, her talent, her attitude, her looks, her smiles, her ambition, the thing that shone the brightest with her was her heart. Mercedes had loved him when he was poor and living in a hotel room. She had stood by him when she found out he was a stripper. She had never looked at him as if he was only a pretty face with a pair of abs. She could have gone all out for junior prom, yet she chose a stripped down approach because he couldn’t afford it. Even though he had shaken up her core belief system she still went to senior prom with him. If there was anyone who Sam knew would fight alongside him in the trenches, it was her, (though if he had anything to do with it, she would never have to, because he would be there to protect her).

                The fact that she was pretty, and that her voice could bring tears to his eyes, and that she owned who she was, and loved herself…that was just icing on the cake. So maybe she wasn’t the ‘standard’ beauty, the skinny, blonde cheerleader motif. Neither was Quinn, if you got right down to it. Quinn had to flat out buy it, Santana had to borrow a little of it, and the two of them always needed reassurance that they were pretty. Two of the prettiest girls at McKinley didn’t believe that those words were true unless someone else said it to them. Mercedes swagger was all her own, and she didn’t need anyone’s say so to have it.

                Sam came back from his run to find Mercedes up and in the kitchen. He wrapped an arm around her waist, hugging her from behind. He immediately felt her lightly tap him. “Sam, shower!” But she was giggling as she said it. “You know I don’t like all your man-sweat all over me.”

                “Man sweat? You’ve been hanging out with Santana again haven’t you?” He nuzzled her, making sure to get a little more on her. “You know you like it, Mercy,” Sam responded. She pointed in the direction of the bathroom, giving him a slight push. “Shower, Sam, now!”

                “Alright, I’m going! Hey! Can you maybe make those dumplings that I love for Pot Luck on Monday?” Sam questioned.

                Mercedes pulled out of his embrace. “Only if you beg.”

                Sam dropped to his knees in front of her. “Please, pretty please with sugar on top?”

                “I’ll see what I can do,” which pretty much meant it was a done deal. He grinned broadly when Mercedes smiled.

                “Thanks sweetie. You know I love you.”

                “Because I mess up your diet and make you things?”

                Sam had her back in his arms, hugging her tightly. “Yea, pretty much.”

                “Thanks, Sam. I hope that’s not all.”

                He stood up and kissed her neck. “Of course it’s not and you know it. What’re you eating for breakfast? Is there enough for two?”

                She looked guilty. “Oh, sorry, Sammy. I just got finished eating, actually.”

                Sam looked around the spotless kitchen. “What’d you eat?”

                “Grapefruit.”

                That didn’t really sound like his girl. “That’s it?” he questioned.

                “I’m going to eat a big lunch later,” Mercedes responded. “Baxley’s coming into the studio today, so Kyle’s ordering out. I don’t want to get full.” Sam wasn’t sure why, but he felt something off in her statement, but he shook it off.

                “I’m going to go take a shower, clean I must get.”

                Mercedes rolled her eyes at his impression. “I have some time before I have to go in to work. You want me to make you something?”

                Sam practically bounced on the spot. “Please? Ham if we have it, and hash?”

                “Okay,” she readily agreed, already seeking out the cutting board and the potatoes. Sam gave her a quick backwards look before he headed to the bathroom to take a shower. “Hey, ‘Cedes?”

                “Yeah, baby?”

                “I love you.”

                Her face lit up, erasing the tired lines that were on them. “I love you, too,” she said back.

                _She’s lost weight,_ Sam realized as he was undressing to take his shower. He knew that she had talked about dropping a few pounds and had gotten a membership at a gym shortly before she got dropped from her label, but he hadn’t realized she was dropping weight until now. Was she losing because she was working out, or because she was stressed? She had been dropped because ‘they couldn’t place her sound’. Colorblind bounced around the radio stations, and was still in play, but her manager said that the label couldn’t otherwise place her. She wasn’t exclusively R&B, but black singers didn’t seem to do well in the pop arena unless they were “skinny bitches” as Mercedes said. She wasn’t a Beyonce, or a Rhianna, or an Alicia Keys, though Sam thought her voice was far more powerful than any of them.

                Sam knew that she had been pretty down about that, but unlike Rachel, who had practically just shut down, getting dropped from her label had slowed her down, it hadn’t stopped her. She was still writing songs and was busy learning the inner and outer workings of the industry. So she didn’t have a record coming out. She still had a song writing contract with Sony, and she was currently working with Stylez and DeShawn to learn how to operate the switch board and sound equipment on her own. She did work in the studio with some of Sony’s other New York low level talent, which earned her time in the studio to work on her own pieces. Sam was teaching her how to play the guitar, and she knew how to play the keyboard, and wanted to learn how to play the saxophone because it had been one of her secret lifelong ambitions to learn after years of listening to Kenny G albums.

                Mercedes was currently working on putting out her own album, without backing. She had gotten the idea, partly from Sam posting _Disco Inferno_ for her on YouTube back in her senior year, but partly because the world was changing, and independents were getting a lot more play. She was determined to get out there, somehow, even if it killed her. It turned out the only motivation she needed was a little chance to actually shine, that and, Sam felt, someone in her corner (besides her family) to show her just a little extra faith and love, which Sam was more than willing to supply.

                Things were good right now for the two of them. Mercedes was slowly building a career, and Sam was getting more modeling gigs, and things were looking up for them, even though for the others things were coming more apart. So Sam wasn’t quite sure why he had the feeling that he was missing something with the woman that he loved.

                Sam put an abrupt end to his shower, found his towel, and went wandering into the kitchen. Mercedes liked to sing when she cooked, and probably thinking that he was still in the shower she was really letting lose. Seriously, how could Sony drop her? “Hey, Mercy?”

                She screamed, and dropped the measuring cup she was holding. “Oh, dear God, Sam, you scared the crap out of me!” She held her hand over her heart, trying to still it.

                “Sorry, sweetie.” Sam said, contritely. “I didn’t mean to.” He watched her smile, and move to pick up the cup. “Babe, is there something wrong?”

                Mercedes looked at Sam, fresh and wet from the shower, his hair lying flat on his head. She shook her head. “Why would you think that? Everything’s good. What time is your shoot?”

                Sam covered the space between them, and hugged her to him, and surprisingly she didn’t protest even though he was still pretty wet. He placed his hand under her chin. “Seriously, baby, is everything alright?”

                She gave the smile she gave when she didn’t want to let her real feelings so on her face. “I said everything was fine. Are _you_ okay?”

                “Life is pretty perfect from where I’m standing,” he responded, because really at the moment he had everything he could want. He leaned down to kiss her. “Well, okay, but promise that if it wasn’t, you would tell me.”

                She laughed. “I promise, now what time is your shoot?”

                “Sign in is 1:45; I think it’s going to be a late one.”

                “Do you want me to wait up for you?”

                “You don’t have to.”

                “What if I want to?”

                Sam smiled, kissing her again. “You really shouldn’t. Last time I worked with these guys we didn’t leave the shoot until after midnight, and it’s out on Staten Island so, no. You need your beauty sleep, and I’ll probably be coming in when you’re waking up.”

                Mercedes didn’t like the nights that Sam wasn’t home when she got ready for bed. She had been alone out in L.A., and she hadn’t liked the experience. She had grown up in small town Ohio. Not much happened there, and life was predictable. Life was anything but in L.A. and as hard as she tried she had trouble getting a handle on it. New York was even worse; it was bigger, and moved faster, but she at least had friends here, which made all the difference. If she didn’t want to do something alone she could always call up Santana, Kurt, or Rachel, even Brittany or Blaine, and she’d have company. She almost wanted to call Santana to spend the night because she didn’t like having to sleep without the dead bolt on. “Okay, but wake me up when you come in so that I know that you’re home, okay?”

                “You sure?”

                Mercedes nodded. “I’ll sleep better.”

                Sam smiled. “Okay. You want some cuddle-time tonight, too?” Sam loved cuddling with his girlfriend. Other than sex, he thought it was the most intimate thing that you could do with another person. And although Sam was dying to take things to that next level with her, he respected the fact that she wanted to wait.

                “I’d love some,” she said honestly. Sam had practically been sleeping in her bed for the past couple of months, as she had lately eased up on them sleeping together. Sam thought it was because she was being extra affectionate, and she was, but she was also having some anxiety issues. Anxiety over being let go, and the reason why, and anxiety because Sam was a hot model, who spent his days around other hot models, and she wasn’t a twig.

                Sam went and got dressed, and then came back to eat. He hadn’t yet lost his taste for the sugary cereals, but he loved more getting to start the day with something warm in his belly. He ate quickly, before throwing something warm on so he could escort Mercedes to work. She actually cuddled into him on the subway, instead of just holding his hand, which triggered something, and he kept placing kisses the top of her head.

                “I’ll text you during every break,” Sam assured her, as he dropped her at the front door of Sony Studios. “And when I’m on my way home.”

                Mercedes nodded. They kissed good-bye, and she went in to work. Sam hesitated in front of the building. He had several hours to kill, and he wanted to call up Blaine, but he found himself dialing Santana’s number instead. He realized immediately that he had just woken up her by how grumpy and thick her voice sounded when she said, “What is it Lips?”

                By now he was used to all things Santana and he had learned how she operated. She was the best friend that you didn’t know that you had until something happened and she was there to fix it. He hadn’t to say it, to even think the thought, but it reminded him a lot of Finn, only Santana was far better at fixing things, and a lot less likely to take credit when it was due. They may have not had the best relationship, and they had once competed for the same girl, but there was no one better to have watching your back than Santana. Case in point: she was obviously tired, and yet she still answered the phone.

                “I didn’t mean to wake you, Santana. I’ll keep things short. I was just wondering if you knew if there was something going on with Mercedes.”

                Sam could almost feel her Spidey senses tingling. “Why do you think something’s up with Aretha?” she demanded.

                “I don’t know, I mean I don’t know that there is or isn’t, I was just wondering if she seemed different or anything to you recently?”

                Sam could hear Santana sigh from the other side of the line. “Sorry, honey, I haven’t even been around Mercy in a couple of weeks. If I notice something, though, I’ll let you know.”

                “Thanks, I’m sure it’s nothing. I was just, I just wanted to check to make sure. Santana?”

                He couldn’t believe it. She had fallen asleep! “Sweet dreams, Santana.”


	10. Bumps in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana has a nightmare.

_Lima, Ohio, 2022_

                _Santana was running. Her feet were motoring on the ground, her arms pumping fiercely, but she was gaining ground. Santana could hear it. The scream of the train in the distance. She knew the train tracks were just a little up ahead. As long as they could make it across before it came it would be alright. Too fast, she realized. She was going too fast. But what about the train? Just keep running. She could feel it, footsteps gaining on her. She wasn’t going to be fast enough. A hand reached out. It was almost close enough to touch her. It was going to touch her!_

Santana woke with a start when she hit the ground, fighting the blanket that she had gotten wrapped up in. She didn’t realize she was screaming until she stopped. _Too dark. It’s too dark._ She started to panic when she couldn’t seem to get the blanket off of her. _Where was she? Who was there?_  

                Santana scrambled to her feet, ready to fight off whatever was attacking her. She saw the light from the hallway peeking underneath the door and it was enough. Lima. Hotel. There was no one here with her. There was no one chasing after her, no one had gotten her. She was alone. She was so very alone.

                Holding herself, Santana shakily got to her feet, switching on the bedside lamp. She fumbled around for her phone, her fingers trembling as she scrolled through her contacts. She didn’t realize she was crying until tears splashed down on her phone screen. She couldn’t stop the flow, so she held the phone out away from her body. She hovered over Quinn’s name, almost pushing call. She hesitated, scrolling back to the top, pausing on a name. She connected the call.

                “Santana?” the voice that asked was thick with sleep and groggy, but alert.

                Santana sighed at the sound of the voice. “Tell me you’re in town.”

                “I just got in this afternoon, what’s up?”

                “I need you. I’m at the Country Inn on Leonard Ave. Room 214.”

                “Just let me get something on. I’ll be there in a few.”

                “Thank you.”

                “Any time, Snix. I’ll be right there.” He hesitated. “Don’t do anything. I’m coming!”

                After she hung up the phone, Santana paced the length of her room, feeling unsettled, and upset, and like she was the world’s biggest baby. She couldn’t stop crying. She wanted to talk to her daughter, to make sure that she was safe at home with her mom. Santana didn’t like spending time away from her daughter, and she understood why Brittany never wanted to spend a night away from her. But she couldn’t call and wake them up. Brittany would know something was wrong. Brittany wouldn’t be a comfort to her. The only person who possibly would, at the moment, was six feet under the ground.

                Her tears started anew.

                She startled when she heard the gentle tap at her door. “Who is it?” she questioned.

                “It’s David.”

                “Are you alone?”

                “Yes, I promise.”

                Trembling, Santana opened the door a crack. When she saw that it was David, and he was alone, she opened the door wider to let him in. David took in Santana’s appearance, and he knew that it was bad.

                “I-I’m sorry. I know it’s late, I just had a…bad dream, and I didn’t know-,”

                David cut off her stuttering ramble with a hug. “It’s okay, Snix. Remember: we don’t have to explain anything to each other.”

                Santana nodded into his chest, getting his shirt wet. She tried to push back the thoughts of how it felt when she did this with Finn, how he’d bring his head down to rest against hers. He never assured her that it was going to be okay, because it wasn’t, and they both knew it. But having someone there to hold her, and understand, that had been comforting enough.  

                Somehow they made it over to the bed, Dave still holding her tightly. Santana wasn’t sure how much time passed with him patiently holding her while she cried, until she suddenly pulled back. “Do you still work out?” she questioned unexpectedly.

                Dave nodded. “I try to keep in shape.”

                “Can we go for a run?”

                If Dave thought that it was an unusual request, he didn’t say anything. He waited for Santana to pull on a pair of her cross-trainers, and they left the hotel together. The street was completely empty when they emerged from the building because it was the middle of the night, and all sane people were in bed, asleep. At the same cue the two of them started jogging. They had barely made the corner before Santana said, “I really need to run. Set the pace, and I’ll keep up.”

                David was a big guy, but he knew how to run. He set a pace like he was running a 40. It was a sprinter’s pace, one not meant to be sustained. David knew that if he worked hard at it, he could keep up that pace for at least half a mile. He wasn’t surprised in the least that Santana could keep up with him, but she did, and she didn’t over take him, though he was sure the tiny girl could. Somehow he pulled out some energy deep in his reserve and increased his pace. The second he did so, so did she.

                They both eased into a slow jog at the same time, both breathing hard, but continuing to move forward. Fifteen minutes later they were back at the hotel, the building silent as the tomb as they made their way back to Santana’s room. Santana didn’t even bother to remove her shoes as she sank down against the bed, pulling the comforter around her, and curling into a ball. Dave sat down beside her on top of the cover.

                “You know that dream you have where you’re running from something, and you can’t get away?” Santana said in a whisper soft voice. Dave nodded. He waited for her to go on, but she changed the subject. “How are you and Kurt?” It had been a couple of weeks since the last time she had talked to them. She didn’t normally let so much time pass between conversations, but Santana had been understandably out of it in anticipation of being back in Lima.

                 “We can talk if you want to, Snix, I don’t mind.”

                “I’m working up to it,” Santana responded. “I’m hoping to leave all of my ghosts behind me when I leave Lima. Right now just trust me.”

                Dave smiled then. “We’re good. We completed our home study, and we are waiting to find a child that matches us.”

                “Have you decided around what age?”

                “Yea. 5 or 6 hopefully. We decided that if we’re going to have an actual baby, we’d want it to be biologically related to one of us, but we want our first child to be adopted.”

                “Is Quinn still going to donate an egg for that?”

                Dave gave his head a thoughtful shake. “No. We don’t want to ask her. Since she made the offer to Kurt and Blaine we kind of decided that it wouldn’t be right to accept it. Anyway, I have a cousin who doesn’t want to have kids who is going to donate for that purpose.”

                “It’s tough being back here.” Dave was unsurprised by the randomness of her statement, and just waited quietly, not wanting to spook her if she was going to start talking. “I didn’t know it was going to be so hard, but being back, I just, I can hear him, you know? And even though the shit that I remember the strongest about him was just so harsh, I miss him.”

                Dave, probably more than any of the other Glee kids, had more than an inkling for how close Santana and Finn’s relationship really was. Dave had never really understood it, because Santana didn’t talk that much about it. Dave had just figured that it was somewhere along the lines of something similar to Santana and his relationship. Santana and Dave had bullied each other, and said some pretty hateful things to each other, and yet they had somehow managed to form a friendship, and a strong one at that. Santana was probably his best friend. He still called her when he needed someone to talk to, and Dave was pretty sure that he was the _only_ one that Santana actually confided in. Although it made him happy that she trusted him so much, the thought that she didn’t confide in hardly anyone else made him really sad for her.

                “Being friends with him was like,” Santana paused to think about it, trying to get it right, not so Karofsky could understand, but so she could. “It was like going to the dentist. You went into it scared, you come out hurting like hell, but you feel clean after.” She paused, trying to feel out how those words fit for her. “Maybe I should have compared it to confessional. He was like my brother, family. No matter what happened between us, I was stuck with him. For life. I’d prepared myself for that, and I thought I had a firm grasp on him, and then there’s that call in the middle of the night.

                Santana blinked back a tear and looked at Karofsky. “You know he called me? No one knows that, not even Kurt, but he called me the night before, and he said that he was ‘sorry’, and that he loved me, and he couldn’t wait to see me again. I thought it meant that he was coming up to New York soon…and you know what I thought? I thought, _Please don’t, Finn. Please just stay in Lima because I’m good here. I don’t want any of our ghosts following us here_. _I can go days or even weeks at a time without thinking about you here, and I know that that will all change if you come._

                “Everyone thought that I was such a bitch, but I had never really thought it about myself until that day. What kind of person thinks that about someone they’re supposed to love? Nothing I did in high school ever came even close to how mean that thought was. Finn betrayed me when he called me a coward in the middle of the hallway, and I thought I was so much better than him because I never betrayed him, but I did. I betrayed him in that moment, because he hadn’t been calling to tell me he was coming to see me, he had been calling to let me know that he was leaving, and that he wanted to see me one last time before he went, but he didn’t want to wait long enough for that to happen.

                “He’s busy saying goodbye to me, and I’m thinking how much I don’t want to see him. He died a couple of hours later. Alone. What kind of person lets their best friend die alone?”

                She was anticipating the look of disgust of David’s face, but was met only with a pitying one which was infinitely worse. God, Santana hated to be pitied, and by Dave over Finn of all things. David and Finn were never going to be friends. He venomously hated Finn and the feeling had been mutual.  But David loved Santana, and since they became friends he did his damnedest to bury his feelings towards the Jolly Teen Giant. It wasn’t until just now, though, that he realized just how much out of self-preservation it was. He might not have realized it back then, but Santana loved the guy, actually loved the guy. Not _in_ love with him, no, Santana was as gay as he was, and he was _really_ gay. But if he had ever pushed Santana’s relationship with Finn, Santana would have broken off their friendship faster than he could have blinked.

                Santana was self-destructive, but damn it if she wasn’t loyal. How she had managed to keep all of it together was beyond him, and he couldn’t grasp how no one else had noticed how devastated she’d been by Finn’s death even after she broke down in front of her ‘family’. They may have become friends because Dave needed Santana at the time, but they had maintained their friendship over the years because Santana had needed Dave just as much.  
                “Do you remember when you came and visited me in the hospital after I tried to kill myself?” It had taken David a long time to be able to say that statement without flinching away from it or shuddering.

                She nodded. “Do you remember what you said?”

                “Somewhat.”

                “Well, I remember every word of it. Everyone was saying how it’d get better and all that crap, and then you came by. You called me an idiot, and you punched me, and then you hugged me, and you said ‘that you can’t say that it’s going to get better because sometimes life just hurts and it’s just so fucking hard, but that you will keep fighting because that’s all people like us know how to do. We kick, and claw, and dig our nails in, and we might destroy everything in the process but we keep fighting because we don’t know how to give in’. Do you remember that?”

                It took her a moment, but eventually Santana nodded. “Every last one of us, we come here fighting our own fight. That doesn’t mean we do it alone, no, but no one else can fight for us, no matter how hard we want to. You’re not a bad person because for a second you got tired of fighting someone else’s battle on top of your own. You can’t be everything to everyone, especially when it keeps you from being something to yourself.

                “It doesn’t make you weak, and it doesn’t make you a coward. You’re not a coward, Santana, and you never were. No matter what happened between you, you’re not a coward.”

                Santana thought back to the dream she’d had and heard the emergence of Finn’s voice. _“You know what that makes you, Santana_?”

“He was a douche for ever telling you that you were.” Dave reached for her hand, rubbing it gently between his own. “I don’t know everything that went on with you two, I don’t know what happened before I knew you, but just knowing the person that you’ve let me get to know over the past 10-11 years, I know that you’re nothing but beautiful, Santana. Doing something bad doesn’t make you a bad person, it just makes you a person.”

                Santana thought the words over. She was suddenly tired. The time, and her run, and her freak out and nightmare all sort of catching up to her at the same moment. “I did a lot of bad shit to a lot of people, but does that mean that I don’t deserve to have any good in my life for the things that I did when I was young, dumb, and hurting? Do I deserve no good?”

                “Of course you do, David.”

                “And so do you. You deserve every good thing that lands your way. Do you know that Kurt used to blame himself for my attempted suicide? He thinks that because he didn’t answer the phone, I decided to end things.”               

                “That’s ridiculous,” Santana said irritably, angry at the stupidity.

                Dave nodded. “Yes, it is, but it took him a long time to realize that. To let go of that guilt. There’s plenty of room for guilt between us, mostly on my part. Kurt’s long forgiven me for what I did to him, and I had to find the way to forgive myself. You know what did it for me?”

                Dave found her eyes, and smiled brightly. “I’m alive, Snix. As long as I’m alive, as long as I’m still breathing, as long as I am _here_ I’m going to be here, I’m going to keep living, I’m going to keep breathing, because for one moment of eternity I wasn’t. And if I’m alive, I’m going to really be alive, I’m not going to let myself be weighted down by anything that keeps me from living. So whatever it is that happened that’s got his grip so tightly around you that you can’t breathe, let it go. At the very least it’s been 10 years. With good behavior, and a good lawyer, even a murderer can get out of jail by that time.”

                Santana gave a little snort. “You’re getting pretty good at these speeches, David,” she complimented him.

                Dave gave his little boy smile. “Thanks, I’ve been working on them.”

                “Thank you for being my friend, David.”

                “Oh, honey, that’s something you should never have to thank me for. I’m alive because of you.”

                Santana chewed on the inside of her lip. “Will you spend the night? I don’t want to sleep alone.”

                David nodded. “I thought I already was.”

                She gave an appreciative chuckle. “Kurt must not be in town yet.”

                “No. He’ll be here on Thursday. My dad’s been a little under the weather, and it’s been awhile since I’ve taken a vacation so I decided to take a few extra days. Besides Az wanted to get together with a couple of guys from the football team. Catch up.”

                “Brittany will be here on Thursday,” Santana said almost as an afterthought.

                “Are you ready for that?” Dave asked gently. Santana shrugged. It didn’t really seem like it was a big deal, after all she saw her all the time anyway, but that wasn’t all the time in Lima. Santana in Lima was always a different person. It was like no matter how hard she pushed forward, whenever she was back in this town she fell back to Cheerio, insecure, guilt ridden Santana. “About as ready as I am to be back around all my Glee family again,” she decided.


	11. A Musical Interlude

_Lima, Ohio, 2012 – Mike & Tina_

Tina was making the best use of the auditorium. Right now the other new New Directions avoided the place like the plague, (she guessed from a residual feeling of guilt from going along with Mr. Schue's ridiculous and cost consuming numbers, and not winning Nationals), but Tina knew that this was all she was going to get. Once Rachel, Mercedes, and Santana showed up, they would all take over the choir room and auditorium, and Tina would be pushed back into the background where she had been, well, always.

Tina couldn't even pretend that she was anything other than invisible. Once she had gone an entire week without saying anything to anyone, and no one even noticed. At one point in their high school careers she had been the only friend that Rachel had had, but as soon as the Unholy Trinity eased off of her for a second, she went looking for a way, any way, to break into their circle. And once she started dating Finn, she had left her behind without even a backwards glance, save to condescend down to her in junior year that once she [Rachel Berry] was gone, she [Tina Cohen-Chang] would suddenly rejoin the human race, and find a place in the sun.

Instead of shining, though, she had gone through a kind of mental break down after she and Mike had broken up, and she'd gotten so tired of being invisible that she had done some (let's just call it desperate) measures just to be seen by some body, anybody. And just when she was off the crazy bus, and thought she was going to get her one moment in the spotlight, Blaine somehow managed to finagle her Valedictorian spot. She was so ready for high school to be over with. Once she graduated, she doubted that she would keep in touch with any of the Gleeks; not that they'd notice.

So she was taking advantage of the fact that she had the performance space to herself. She had given herself a solo, and was just letting her heart go. Her song of choice  _Invisible Man_ , the old 98 degrees number, was a little off, but still fitting. (She had planned on singing Clay Aiken's  _If I Were Invisible,_ but then decided that that song was just _too creepy)._ There was no band mates hanging around, so she had to sing a capella, which was perfect for her because she had an amazing voice, just had never really gotten the chance to showcase it. She supposed it was a lesson in fairness that would prepare her for the real world, i.e. it was a myth propagated in nursery school, and believing in it was akin to believing in Santa, and Tina wasn't Brittany.

With a last glance around to make sure that she was truly alone, she started to let herself go in song. She brushed angry tears away when she came to the lines:  _You don't even know that I'm around. Baby to you, all I am, is the Invisible Man._  Suddenly Tina wished that she had chosen to sing Cee-lo's  _Fuck_  Y _ou_ , instead of this woe-be-me song. It seemed more apropos in expressing how she truly felt about Glee (and McKinley). She wanted to say that she was sad or surprised that it was all all over, but she couldn't. Of course it was over when it was more interested in the drama of its members than the music, when Schue had only put forth his select favorite performers instead of working on and drawing out all of its talent, and when he had left it in the incapable hands of Finn, who couldn't lead Glee when he was going to school here, much less once he graduated.

She didn't realize that she was no longer alone in the auditorium until she finished singing and she heard clapping. Her eyes fell out into the audience, and was surprised to see Mike sitting front and center. Tina was half-way into his arms before she remembered that they had broken up, but damn this boy always made her feel like home. He made her feel smart, and talented, and pretty. He made her feel like anything was possible. And: abs. Lovely, lovely, abs.

Mike, who had merely been drawn in by the sound of her voice, was surprised, and pleased, by Tina's reaction, only frowning when she paused right in front of him, just short of falling into his arms. When she hugged him it was a cautious hug so, taking his cue from her, returned a hug that was just as innocent. Tina couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice when she screamed, "You're early!"

Mike smiled. "Had some people that I wanted to see and no Friday classes so here I am. What were you singing?"

She suddenly felt silly.  _"Invisible Man,"_  Tina told him.

Mike paused as if he were listening to some hidden meaning behind her words. "Sing it again?"

Tina nodded, and went back on stage. " _You can hardly wait to tell all your friends, how his kisses taste sweet like wine."_ Mike joined her, moving to the center, and just started moving. Tina couldn't keep her eyes off of him as she sang. Dancing was just natural to Mike, and she liked seeing him like this best, when there was no choreography and the music just over took him. Within seconds he was seamlessly molding his movements with the song. Tina liked to see how he had interpreted the words, and instead of this round being once again about a person being abandoned, she thought of how it fit towards her and Mike.

When she got to the last words of the song, their eyes locked, and Mike didn't look away from her even to blink. They moved towards each other, just as seamlessly, their bodies intertwining. Tina's final note was cut off by Mike's lips connecting with hers. Their kisses were intense and furious, the beginning of another song. In his gestures she could feel his desperation in hooking up with Brittany, the anger at her getting with Artie, the passion that had brought them together over summer break the year before his junior year, the intense, steady climb that they enjoyed throughout the year, the pure love and adoration of their first time, the longing at Prom, the pain of graduation, the sudden, abrupt, end to their relationship for reasons neither of them understood, and then they got to the frustration, and Tina felt her back connect with the wall in the wings. Senior year there was a lot of frustration.

Tina was desperate to cling to something, to keep her feet beneath her, so she clung to Mike. Her hands slipped underneath them, and she was once again touching those perfectly chiseled dancer's abs. Mike grunted, pushing her deeper into the wall, letting her feel his erection. His very not small and demanding erection. If she wasn't so desperate to feel him inside of her, she would have dropped to her knees just to get a taste of him, but she had needs, and he didn't need any help getting it up. She did work his shirt up over his head because she  _needed_  to see his stomach. God, Blaine had nothing on him. What had she been thinking?

Mike's hands dipped underneath her shirt, and Tina thought that he was going to return the favor, but while his hands moved to cover her breasts, he didn't attempt to take off her shirt. Instead he placed, gentle, loving kisses on her neck as he pulled Tina's legs around his waist, pushing her deeper into the wall to help hold her. His hands gently caressed her breasts through the bra, pausing for a moment, before his hands were moving to discard her panties, and push up her dress. He undid his pants, pushing them down just enough to free himself. He brought his lips back to her mouth, and paused for just a moment to bring his gaze back to rest on eyes that he was sure he could forever get lost in, before he thrust into her.

Tina was always passionate, and didn't hesitate in letting Mike know her appreciation of how good he felt inside of her. "Yes, Mike," Tina panted, at the same time Mike grunted, "Shit, Tina. You feel good."

Mike led this new dance, and Tina let him because she knew how to follow his lead. Mike's talent on the floor translated into bliss in the bedroom, and he had yet to leave her unsatisfied. Tina gripped Mike's shoulders as if her life depended on it as they fell into each other completely lost in the moment.

"Oh shit," Tina panted in his ear. "Oh shit!"

"Marley!"

"Oh,  _shit_!" The last exclamation wasn't from someone caught in the throes of passion, but rather of someone about to get caught.

"Jake, I don't know why we're even still having this conversation; it's over!" Marley.

"Don't you think that I deserve another chance?" Baby Puck.

They remembered suddenly what they were doing, and where they were doing it, and Tina started to laugh. Mike, smiling, slapped a hand over her mouth, looking panicked for a second; the last thing he needed was to get caught with his pants down. Literally. But then he realized that they were almost completely hidden by the curtain, and Jake and Marley certainly seemed occupied with their little argument. Mike met Tina's eyes and the two snickered.

Tina started to let her leg fall, but Mike wasn't about to leave her high and dry. He kept a hold of her leg, and went back to thrusting into her until he felt her body give. She screamed silently into his hand as she was sent over the edge. He continued to thrust until he felt like he, too, was about to explode, but then pulled out because he didn't have a condom, and he wasn't trying to be a daddy. Not until he graduated from college, was settled, and had bought their first house outright. It left him frustrated, but what could he say, he was a planner.

Silently, he pulled her dress down, helped her pull her underwear back on, and zipped himself up, all while keeping his eyes on Tina. When they were both vertical again he kissed her softly. "Can I take you out to dinner tonight? I think we have some things we need to talk about."

Breathlessly, Tina nodded. They really did. "Yes!"

Mike seemed about to say something else, but she could feel the air in the auditorium change, as if the newest addition to the room's presence had the power to alter environments. As Tina only knew of two people who held that power she was sure she had a good idea who had just entered the suddenly very crowded space.

"Yo, plot fillers? Have you two seen Tina?" Santana, all loud mouthed and perfect timing demanded. Mike gave her a quick kiss to the lips, before slipping silently away. Tina walked to the edge of the curtains and saw Marley wave eagerly at Santana before Jake took her hand to continue their argument elsewhere. "The fuck?" Santana demanded as they walked away.

Tina stepped out of the wings. "What do you want, Santana?"

Santana smiled. "There you are Tina Cohen-Lame! I've been looking for you!"

"Why would you possibly be looking for  _me_?" Tina demanded.

Santana made her way over to where she was, sashaying as if she were moving down a runway, instead of through an empty auditorium. "I always like being near you," Santana said sarcastically. "Look, if I know our little Willy like-," she sniffed the air and, as always, blurted out the first thoughts to her mind. "I smell sex." She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the girl in front of her. "Marley and Little Puck hadn't gotten nearly heated enough to be having angry sex, so…oh hold up! Who have you been getting your freaky on with, Chang? I know it's not Blaine because I know his ass shut you down, and you and Sam already got your obligatory Glee Club cluster-fuck on, because as a rule you can't date anyone outside of Glee, so-," she smacked her lips. "Who's been picking in your garden?"

Tina smoothed out her dress. "I have no idea who you're talking about."

Santana seemed to be mentally going through the options. A raunchy smile appeared on her face. "Boy Chang! He must have gotten her early!" Tina tried to give Santana the glare that she used with Figgins, but she never could get it past the girl, so she just smiled. Santana did too. "I knew it! Welcome to the Magic!" she said proudly.

"Magic?"

"MHGC: the Mile High Glee Club."

"The what?"

"The folks in Glee that got it on in either the auditorium or the choir room. You just earned your wings, and it's about damn time!"

"That doesn't…I didn't…wait…there's a  _club_?"

Santana nodded solemnly. "Yep. You're now an attendant. If you've done it in both the choir room and in here you're called a pilot. If you've done it with more than one person, you're a frequent flier. If you've ever just been frustrated and needed to pound one out, you've flown solo,"

"Who else has...?"

Santana looked amused, but slightly out of sorts. "I honestly don't think you really want to know. Otherwise you might have certain…reservations…about things, like, where you're standing right now." Tina jumped, quickly scampering away from where she was standing, and Santana gave a pleased smirk. "Anyway, you're distracting me, Chang. I came here for business…"

"Yes, please explain why you were looking for  _me_."

"As I was saying earlier, if I know Little Willie like I'm sure I do, now that Glee's over and he's got all of his prize ponies back in the stables he's going to do some lame 'assignment' like 'favorite song you performed in Glee' or some crap like that, and I never got to get through the other verse of 'Trouty Mouth' so I thought maybe we could get our partnership back on and work something out."

Tina laughed, but stilled for a moment to say, "I can't." Santana's lips came out in a pout. "Sam and I we're friends, now, good friends, and you know you really hurt Sam with that song."

"Hey, I put my heart into that song!" she groused. "A girl like me gets really  _appreciative_ of those pouty lips, if you get me."

"I really wish I didn't."

Santana shrugged, and sat down on the piano bench. "So are you and Mikey back on?"

Tina blushed, smiling shyly. "It could be just a hook-up, but he wants to have dinner, and no matter what happens, I'm not frustrated at the moment, so…"

" _Wanky_!"

Tina didn't seem the least bit ashamed. "We both know that me and Mike won't be the only ones hooking up this week! You and-,"

"Me has a girlfriend back in New York which I know you know all about because you went blabbing about it as soon as I told you." She shrugged. "'Sides, I'll be too busy making Berry's life a living hell this next week to worry about any residual drama."

Tina knew Santana did what she wanted when she wanted to, but she still questioned, "Uhm…why?"

Santana shrugged. "It keeps her own her toes. I'm trying to prepare her for life."

Tina looked like she doubted that. "What evs. I thought you were like besties now or something."

"I am, that's why I do what I do."

"Sounds like you're just trying to distract yourself away from Brittany."

Santana was unsurprised by Tina's suspicion, but she was completely wrong. She didn't-and she was surprised to realize this-want to be around Brittany. As far as she was concerned, they had settled it all at Regionals. For Brittany, it meant everything that Santana had stopped what she was doing to help her through her mental break down, and Santana was pleased that she still could. But for Santana, that night had felt like a good-bye for their relationship. She had moved on. Things had stopped being awkward. They were friends again. They talked often. Not about anything that mattered, but the fact that they were talking again meant that things were getting back to where they needed to be. Santana was at a point where she was okay with the fact that they were no longer Sanitany but just Brittany and Santana. Friends.

She didn't want to be around Brittany because she could tell that Brittany wasn't at that point. That whatever life realizations that Santana had been having in the past couple of months, Brittany was having the exact opposite ones. Santana didn't want to go backwards. Dani was waiting for her on the other side of this week. All she wanted was to get through it, and go back home.

Santana shook her head. "Me and Britts? We're solid. We're finally friends again, she has some serious direction in her life, I've got a girlfriend; I don't want any of that to change. Like that tattoo of yours, and by the way, does Mikey know that you a) got it, and b) changed it when you two broke up?"

"He didn't exactly get to the place where it's at, so no. When he does, then maybe."

"Oh, so he'll see it tonight then," Santana said with a wink. 

The two of them hung out for a few hours, and Santana remembered just how uncomplicated hanging out with Tina could be. Tina was funny and really good at playing the piano and, like Berry, still harbored this hidden desire to be friends with the popular kids, although Santana wasn’t still the head cheerleader and ruler of the school. And it was nice, Santana thought, being around someone that she didn't quite share so much history with.


	12. First

 

_Lima, Ohio, 2009_

They were in Finn's living room, the couches and tables pushed back. Puck had his guitar out, Finn was on the drums, Matt and Mike were stretched out on the sofa, and Brittany, Santana, and Quinn all had carrots in their hands, singing along as Finn and Puck played  _Rockin' Robin_. When Puck started in on a solo, the carrots were abandoned and Brittany reached for Santana's hands, twirling her into a swing dance. Brittany's steps were intense, but Santana had gotten used to her friend by now, and Brittany was a great teacher. Santana kept up, her steps simpler, but still impressive. Mike and Matt hopped up, too, and they brought Quinn into a simple but vigorous dance that instantly had her giggling and breathless, as she was spun and twirled between them.

Santana had almost no warning before she was lifted into the air, and swung around Brittany's back. Santana didn't land smoothly so Brittany gave her a chance to catch her breath before she did it again. Brittany's eyes met with Mike's, and Santana was spun from her arms, to Mike's, while Quinn and Brittany were now moving together in tandem. With Quinn, Brittany stuck with simple turns, and twists, and her feet stayed on the ground, but Mike had no reservations about throwing Santana into the air. Cheerios practices coming in handy.

The girls started singing again once the bridge was over and Mike and Matt continued to dance in the background. When the song stopped, there was a collective groan. Puck shared a look with Finn and they immediately went into  _Paradise by the Dashboard Light_  and the five of them danced around each other, the girls singing the lyrics that they knew.

"We should start a band," Finn said, as they all collapsed into each other. Santana ended up in Matt's lap, Brittany in Mike's, and Quinn was sitting between Finn and Puck, her legs propped up on Finn's lap.

"We'd be hot," Puck agreed. "I mean I'm a freaking stud." To emphasize his words he flexed his bare chest. With the exception of Puck they were all semi-formally dressed because they had left church a few hours ago, and no one had been home to change. Matt's mother had invited them to come, and since Santana went, the other girls went because Brittany and Santana did everything together and church was the only place that Quinn was allowed to go on Sunday mornings. And since the girls went Mike, Puck, and Finn had followed.

Santana reached across Quinn to mess with Puck's Mohawk, inadvertently giving Quinn an eyeful of cleavage as she leaned over her. "Don't you mean dud, Puck?"

"Whatevs, Lopez, you know you want to take a spin on this ride."

"Bro," Matt said, quietly. "Right here."

"Make your girl behave then," Puck said with a laugh.

Matt only smiled when Santana cuddled closer to him.

"We could always join Glee," someone suggested, and all of them started laughing.

"With that troll Berry, and the perv. Mr. Ryerson? Not happening."

"He like came into the locker room during practice once, and I swear he left with a stiffy."

"Er…Noah, honey," Santana questioned, "what're you doing looking at his junk?"

"Kind of hard to miss it," Puck responded. "Hey, but ain't no way a stud like me is going to join some fairy ship."

Santana and Quinn shared a look, and smiled at each other. Finn wasn't sure why, but he looked between the two of them, and saw something that he couldn't place there.

"Rachel's not as bad as you guys all make out," Brittany said. "She's really nice to me. In middle school she always shared her cookies with me at lunch, and she's funny, she's like a pocket comedian."

"Britt…just no," Santana said. Brittany stuck her tongue out at Santana. "That little midget is like the antithesis of being popular. My star's just starting to rise at McKinley. I'm not going to let it fall in some geek club. Why are we even talking about this?"

"Cause you're good," Matt said. "You three, you're like some Marvelettes revival. It's angelic."

Puck scoffed. "Angelic? Matt, bro, I think you're forgetting who you're dating."

Quinn pressed her hands together in imitation of praying. "Whatever Noah, we're like the holy trinity."

"More like unholy," Puck decided. "Speaking of-,"

" _Noah_ , if you're about to suggest anything shameful on the Lord's Day…"

Puck rolled his eyes. "It's not shameful, and anyway a girl sleeping with another girl isn't even sex."

Santana quirked an eyebrow. "Really? So when are you and Finn going to get it on, Puck?"

Puck looked Finn over. "No offense, dude, but if I were going to get it on with another dude, it would totally be Mike."

Mike did the face that he did, gave a head nod, and dusted his shoulders off. "Word."

Santana and Brittany laughed.

"You're repugnant, Puck."

"Ah whatever, Quinn. Just because you're into all that Chasity Club bull-,"

"If you think that it's bull to keep yourself pure in order to further develop your relationship with your partner and God-"

"It's a joke! We're teenagers. Why would we wait when this is the time that we should be doing stupid shit?"

"Sleeping with you, Puck, thoroughly goes into the category of stupid shit."

Santana and Quinn hi-fived.

"I dunno, it was pretty fun," Brittany said, and heads turned to look at her. Puck smiled at Brittany. "Thank you, Brittany."

Brittany smiled back, before looking at the appalled look Santana was giving her. "What?"

"You slept with Puck?"

"Well, yeah." Brittany looked startled.

"Course Britt took a ride on the Puck-a-saurus." Puck ran his fingers through his Mohawk. "I'm like a motorcycle: everyone wants to take me out for a spin at least once."

She winked his way. "Vroom," Brittany added, revving her hand.

"I can't believe this," Santana muttered.

Her look at Santana was sobering. "Are you mad, San?" Brittany questioned, looking surprised. "If you like Puck-,"

"Ew god, I don't like Puck," Santana hissed.

"You protest too much, Lopez."

Santana guffawed. "Fuck, did you just semi-quote Shakespeare?"

Puck gestured. "Yup, total body  _and_ brain."

Mike, Matt, Finn and the girls all laughed. "Puck, the day you get mistaken for having a brain, is the day Lord Tubbington will get elected president."

Puck huffed. "Yea, whatever."

Brittany reached over for Santana's hand. "Sorry, Santana. Honestly, I thought you had. There was that rumor, and neither of you denied it."

"Who the hell would deny sleeping with Santana Lopez?" Puck posed.

"My girlfriend," Matt objected.

"And I'm sure you know exactly how hot she is. I know you've tapped that." Matt's look clearly said that he hadn't. "Man, how have you  _not_  hit that? Santana's always open for business."

A few things happened. Matt looked like he was moving to hit Puck, so did Santana, and Finn. Mike looked like he was getting ready to intervene, Brittany looked confused, Quinn's eyes were glued to Santana. "Stop saying shit like that about my girlfriend," Matt demanded, glaring at Puck. The fact that Matt cussed quieted the room, because Matt didn't cuss. Matt hardly spoke.

"Yea, fuck you, Puck. I'm not always open for business. You should know me better than to think that I actually slept with Paul R. or Azimo. Really? They're just rumors! I'm a freaking virgin, and if that goes past this room, I will ends every one of you."

Mike seemed the most surprised, Puck looked like he had a goal to add to his list, Finn didn't anything, and Brittany was pouting, looking confused. "Wait," she said, "I thought virgin meant that you hadn't had sex. San-,"

"That doesn't count," Santana quickly snapped. Brittany's pout deepened, Santana flushed, and Quinn's lips pulled in. Finn looked at the three girls at this small display, and Puck  _really_ looked like he had a new goal.

"Can we talk about something else?" Mike pleaded. "You guys killed the mood, and we were having fun!"

Puck wisely picked up his guitar, found another song to play, and within minutes, they were jamming again. Puck found a moment to send a whispered, "Sorry, bro," to Matt, and Santana and Brittany were dancing together after a few minutes of Santana purposely avoiding her.

As it got later into the evening, the hang out started to end, and unintentionally, Santana found herself the last to leave, leaving it just her and Finn, who seemed suddenly agitated. "Brittany?" Finn demanded. "You had sex with Brittany, and you didn't tell me?"

Santana examined her finger nails. She wished she had her nail file on her. "It kind of just happened," Santana remarked. "Anyway, why do you even care?"

Finn blushed, flustered. "We tell each other everything, don't we? I thought we were close, Santana."

"I didn't think that it was a big deal. We were just messing around, and it like happened."

"Does Matt know?"

"No, and he doesn't need to."

"You like her, though, don't you?" Finn persisted. He was staring at her so Santana couldn't even pretend to deny it.

"Yes."

"What about Matt?"

"I like Matt," Santana said quickly.

"Yet, you're cheating on him."

"Me and Britt only happened a few times, and you heard Puck: sleeping with a girl doesn't count."

"So, what is it? Brittany sleeps with everyone, so you wanted to take her for a spin, just to see what it was like?" Finn said with disgust.

Santana punched him. "Don't you dare make it sound like Brittany is some cheap thrill. Brittany is comfortable with her sexuality, and she expresses it. It's a load of crap for a guy to be like that, and not a girl, and just because someone's a virgin doesn't mean that you're holy or something and she's burning. It just means that you think differently. Brittany is beautiful, and she is kind, and she is loving. That is why I slept with her. She's my damsel; she's not some," Santana's mouth snapped shut as her words caught up with her.

She and Finn lapsed into silence, both pretending that she hadn't used the word. Their hands almost reached for each other at the same time. "So, Quinn, huh?" Santana questioned. Trying to lighten up the suddenly somber mood.

Finn felt his face grow red. He grinned. "She's pretty," he whispered.

"Why don't you ask her out, then?"

"You really think she'd go out with me?"

"Why not? You're cute! You play basketball, and you're on the football team."

"On the bench."

"Brock graduates this year."

"Coach isn't going to make a sophomore the quarterback."

"You never know. I think Coach Sue's got her eye on Quinn for head cheerleader next year. Taylor is graduating, and Stacy's a bitch."

"What about you?"

Santana looked off to the side. "Quinn's better than me. She's better at being in charge, she's faster, stronger, comes up with better routines."

"Bull," Finn said. "You're the better dancer, so I know you probably could put better routines together, you're incredibly strong, and I know you're faster; you're a fucking rabbit. She might be better at being in charge, but you're the better athlete."

"Thanks, Finn, but it's not a contest. I don't lead."

If perhaps Santana hadn't used the word damsel to describe Brittany earlier in the conversation, Finn might not have put two and two together so quickly, but since the word was running around in his head, he got it a lot quicker than he usually would have. "Leading doesn't mean that you're leaving someone behind."

There was that flicker with her eyes, followed by upturn of her lips, like she had just swallowed something nasty. "Quinn needs this. She needs perfection. Brittany's got dance, I've got my family; Quinn doesn't have anything."

"She has us."

"Exactly," Santana said. "And that's why I don't care if I'm second as long as she's first."


End file.
